


Like Staring Into the Sun

by nyxocity



Series: Like Staring Into the Sun [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, First Time, M/M, Multi, Sibling Incest, Threesome - F/M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-22
Updated: 2012-03-22
Packaged: 2017-11-02 08:34:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/367041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyxocity/pseuds/nyxocity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not about the girls. The girls are just the excuse. It’s about them. Them and this unavoidable thing that’s growing between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Like Staring Into the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Set about mid-S3. Darker!Sam and Doomed!Dean find themselves in a place where morals and rules aren't starting to mean much in the face of what they really want.

Dean can smell sex the second he opens the door to their motel room, scent of girl heavy in the air, permeating his senses.

There she is, pale skin cut from lamplight and shadow, sitting in the chair by the dresser. Poured into a tiny little scrap of black dress, eyes smudged with dark kohl and lips swollen, smeared red lipstick, the point of her tongue, creeping out to lick at the crimson colored skin. She’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat, eyelashes black smudges against her cheeks. She’s on Sam’s lap, her back to his chest, head lolling back against one huge shoulder, her legs splayed open, and Dean takes a sharp breath as the door swings shut behind him with an almost ominous boom.

Sam’s got his hand up under her skirt, fingers working.

“Dean.” His eyes are full of shadows, points of glittering light from the lamp caught in scorching heat.

The girl gasps, starts to sit up, and Sam pulls her back against his body with his free hand, holding her in place.

“No,” he whispers against her ear. “Don’t be shy.” He takes his hand away from her pussy, runs it down her inner thigh to the knee, and slaps it gently. “Open your legs. Let him see.”

She moans and throws her head back, spreads her thighs apart and Dean can see from here that her panties are sopping wet, white satin soaked through and clinging to her inner lips, flesh rosy tinted beneath. And God, Dean can smell her from here, too, ripe, spicy heat. Feels it go straight to his dick. Some instincts, you just can’t repress.

“Good girl,” Sam whispers, licking up the side of her neck, hand moving back between her legs. He slides her panties over, runs his fingers over pink skin and her hips jerk against him, knees falling further apart. He pushes two fingers inside her, slick and glistening wet, angles his head against her to look at Dean, his eyes dark heat.

“God, Dean, she’s soaking wet,” he whispers, thrusting his fingers inside her harder, and she moans again, head falling back on Sam. He whispers something in her ear that Dean can’t hear, and she lifts her face, eyes glazed as they try to focus on Dean.

Sam pulls his fingers out her with wet pop, brings them to his mouth and licks them clean. The girl groans in protest, and Sam shushes her. “She tastes so good, Dean. Sweet,” Sam says, hand gliding back down to spread her pussy open.

Meets Dean’s eyes and holds them, presenting the girl like a trophy for inspection. “Taste her.” 

Three weeks ago, Dean would have told Sam he was out of his fucking mind. In point of fact, three weeks ago, he’d done just exactly that. How they’d gotten from there to here Dean still didn’t exactly understand, but he’d bet money it had something to do with the fact that Sammy had been weaned learning how to twist Dean inside out to get his way. 

That and the wicked, hungry glint in his baby brother’s eye when he’d stared Dean up and down like he was starving and wanted to lick every inch of Dean’s skin to see how he tasted.

Dean groans, steps forward and falls to his knees, putting a hand on each of her thighs, fingers running over hot, silky skin.

She inhales sharply, breasts rising and falling, and Christ, this has to be one of the most twisted things he’s ever done. He leans in, inhaling the scent of her, and she starts to reach for him, fingers brushing his hair.

“No touching,” Sam hisses, and she lets her hands drop away, fall to her sides, whining as she cants her hips toward Dean.

It’s all the invitation he needs. Starts low, tongue easing just inside her before dancing away, licking up the spread expanse of her inner lips till he reaches the top and swirls his tongue around her clit. And damn, Sammy sure knows how to pitch a sell; there isn’t much in the world Dean loves more than doing this. Her breath hitches, and he can see her hands fist, dig into the cushion of the chair in a death grip. He circles it a few times, swings his head back and forth in slow shakes, letting his tongue follow the motion. Makes her whine and mewl until he finally takes mercy on her and sucks the tiny bud between his lips.

“Does that feel good?” Sam asks, voice rich and dark, throaty and deep. He can feel as much as hear the girl moan in response, and Sam chuckles, fingers flexing and spreading her open even wider. “Is he doing a good job, sucking your pussy?” Sam’s voice gets closer, lower. “I told you he would.” And Christ, that should really _not_ send a shudder racing down Dean’s spine, but it does, gravelly voice and naughty words hitting him like a punch to the gut.

“Tell him,” Sam orders. “Say his name.” When the girl doesn’t immediately respond, Dean sees and feels Sam’s fingers dig into the flesh of her cunt, hears her whimper in pleasure pain.

“Tell him.”

“God. So good, Dean,” she breathes, voice ragged and desperate.

He suckles harder, her body dripping honey into his mouth, hears her breath hitch in her chest. Sam’s cupping the weight of one of her breasts, fingers rolling the nipple through her thin dress, and she’s revving up like an engine, purring and humming, body rocking in a slow rhythm against Dean’s chin.

“God, you’re fucking loving it, aren’t you?” Sam asks her, voice insidious and thick, snaking into Dean’s brain, shooting sparks all through him, and his mouth’s full of girl but his body seems pretty damned interested in Sam. “What do you think Dean?” Sam asks, breathing heavy. “Should we let her come yet?”

The girl moans again, gives a desperate roll of her hips into Dean’s face, trying to push herself over the edge. Sam just spreads his hand over her cunt, covers it, and Dean’s tongue is caught between his brother’s fingers for an instant—taste of salt and pussy and pure _Sam_ \--and he pulls back, hands trembling, eyes flicking up to his brother’s.

Sam’s face is dark, terrible and beautiful all at once, his eyes fixed hungrily on Dean, burning embers that pierce Dean’s soul, rip him open and lay him bare with need. Sam’s tongue flickers out, licks his lower lip, and Dean doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything so _perfect_ and utterly, completely fucking _hot_ in his whole life. He wants to trap Sam’s tongue in his mouth, suckle on it, memorize the taste, paint his name across it with spit.

Eyes locked, heat and years, the girl squirms, forgotten on Sam’s lap between them.

Sam’s mouth quirks in a grin, the slant of his eyes narrowing just a fraction, and without ever taking his eyes from Dean, he rolls his hand against the girl’s pussy, turns his face and bites into the angle of her jaw. “You wanna fuck me?” he asks her, still staring at Dean, and Dean feels the words tear through him like a shot, stealing his breath and boiling his blood, cock twitching helplessly against his belly, and fuck, he’s pretty sure Sam could make him come just by _talking_. He’s pretty goddamned sure Sam knows it, too.

Sam moves his hand away from her pretty pink slit, smirks when she whines. “Take off her panties, Dean.”

He strips them down her thighs, sodden, sticky mess, while Sam rips her dress over her head. Helps her lift her hips while Sam slides out of his jeans beneath her. Smell of male musk, rock hard length of Sam’s cock curling up onto his belly, and it’s just as huge as the rest of him. Long fingers wrap around it, pushes it up under the girl.

Sam puts his other hand on her shoulder, and Dean watches the head of his cock disappear inside the girl, teasing.

“That what you want?” he asks her, and Jesus fucking _Christ_ , the purring rumble of that voice is such pure sex that’s it’s criminal. Dean watches the girl catch her lower lip between her teeth, eyes closed, face flushed and strained. Watches her dance on the raggedy edge of “almost”, wanting it so bad he thinks she might praying to God for deliverance.

Sam pushes her down on his cock so hard that her eyes fly open and roll back in her head, every muscle in her body trembling and taut. “Fuck yes,” she hisses, rocking forward with her hips while Sam holds her down, impaled on his dick.

“Wanna watch you fuck yourself on my cock,” Sam whispers, releasing her, and then Dean feels Sam’s fingers curl into shoulders, hard and hot, pulling Dean in.

“Make her come Dean. Make her come while she fucks me.”

The girl lifts her hips, rocking up and down the length of Sam buried inside her, her hands braced on the arms of the chair, and Sam just sits there, staring over her shoulder down at Dean. Not touching her anywhere except where his cock disappears inside her ripe, pink cunt.

Dean leans in, feels his lips brush against the curve of his brother’s dick, and fuck, this is so _very_ many kinds of wrong.

He wonders what it says about him that he couldn’t care less. Finds he doesn’t care very much about _that_ , either.

His tongue melts against the velvet skin of Sam’s cock, mapping the veins beneath, and he feels Sam shudder, hears him hiss— _“Fuck. Dean.”_ And he knows where this is going, has known since Sam brought the first girl back to their motel room three weeks ago. It’s not about the girls. The girls are just the excuse. It’s about _them_. Them and this unavoidable thing that’s growing between them.

Taste of salt and girlslick, velvet meeting satin where their bodies join, and he licks up the center of her, pressing her clit with the flat of his tongue. Sam clutches his shoulders tight, and he laps with slow strokes, the length of Sam’s dick, all the way to her twitching clit and back down again as she fucks Sam for all she’s worth.

They move together in one rhythm, keeping time in thrusts, licks and sucks. When Dean feels the girl tense, her rhythm flounder, he digs his fingernails into the tender skin of her inner thighs and bites down soft around her clit, tip of his tongue catching it and flicking it with steady strokes.

She comes so hard Dean can _feel_ her muscles clamping and fluttering around Sam’s cock, shudders so violently he thinks she might shake apart with the force of it, scream torn from her throat in a single ragged note, broken glass and volcanic explosion.

Sam grabs her hips, sinks his fingers deep into the hollows and grips her, fucking up into her with quick, hard thrusts while he holds her still, not letting her move a millimeter while he rams in and out of her, and Dean does his best to hold on, shaking with the power of Sam’s strokes. Sucks her clit hard, runs his tongue up under the hood, and feels her legs stutter, slamming tight around his shoulders. She’s trying valiantly to close them, to blunt the pleasure that must be so intense by now that it borders on pain, but Dean’s body is in the way, and it doesn’t matter, too late, another second and she’s gone anyway, body convulsing and jerking like an earthquake, her screams so high and loud that Dean feels his ears pop, and Jesus _fuck_ he doesn’t think he’s ever felt a woman come like this, like a force of nature gushing all over his chin, isn’t sure she’s going to survive it.

When Sam finally lifts her from his cock, she’s limp, body falling back against Sam, tears streaming from her eyes in black eyeliner flecked rivulets. For a second, Dean’s afraid they’ve hurt her, but then she smiles, manages a chuckle through the tears and mutters something in a language that doesn’t sound like English, but Dean figures he pretty much gets the gist, regardless. 

From over her shoulder, Sam’s still staring at him, mouth deep pink and eyes sharp beneath the glaze of lust.

They’re both still rock hard, neither of them satisfied. Staring right back at Sam, Dean unbuttons his pants, reaches inside and takes his cock in his hand. Watches as Sam does the same, long fingers gripping his cock right in front of the girl’s still dripping cunt.

And they can still come back from this. Dean’s tongue licking his brother’s cock could be an accident given he was eating a girl out while she fucked his brother. Twisted as it is, they can chalk it up to circumstance. They can pretend that both of them aren’t still thinking about it _right now_ like the girl between them was never here. They can go back to normal, no harm, no foul.

And for tonight, maybe they will.

But they both know it’s only a matter of time.


	2. Gravitational Collapse

When Dean gets to the car, Sam’s already there, tongue tangled in girl. Sam’s fingers brush upward from the base of the girl’s spine as he kisses her, their mouths fused together, and Dean feels the sight go to his dick, making him half-hard _thatquick_. He’s used to that; he is a guy after all, watching anything that’s possibly going to lead to sex has that effect on him. What he’s less prepared for is the sudden sinking sensation in his chest that follows, skin drawn tight and muscles clenched, lungs straining for air.

He closes his eyes, gets it under control, and raps on the window with his knuckles.

The girl whips around, mouth forming a pink, startled “o” as she sees Dean. Her hands move reflexively to cover her breasts (where Sam is _still_ touching her, Dean can’t help but notice). But Sam doesn’t even flinch. Just stares at Dean like he can see right through him, tilts his head and whispers something in the girl’s ear, smirking at Dean all the while. 

And now the girl visibly relaxes, her eyes going dark with liquid heat as she looks Dean up and down. She puts a finger to her lips, then parts them, catching the tip between her teeth. She never looks away from Dean as she releases her finger, hand sliding over to hide her mouth as she whispers something sly to Sam, and Christ, they’re both staring at him like they want to eat him alive. The effect is more than a little creepy, and the fact that it’s only turning him on more is even creepier.

He doesn’t even need to ask if she’s coming back to the motel with them, so he doesn’t.

*

Dean’s driving and Sam’s in the backseat, his lap full of girl. Long, muscular legs straddle him, round, firm ass peeking out from under the blue jean of her mini-skirt as Dean flicks his eyes up to watch in the rearview mirror. Her ass is bare, panties crumpled somewhere on the floor of the Impala, and one of Sam’s massive hands grips the exposed flesh, fingertips digging into skin and making shadowed indents that draw Dean’s eyes. Sam’s fingers flex, tighten possessively, and Dean hears the girl whimper, sees her shudder.

When he glances up again, Sam’s staring dead at him in the mirror, and Dean feels his heart freeze in his chest, throat suddenly dry. The girl’s got her mouth locked against Sam’s neck, kissing and licking her way down the long, graceful length of it, but Sam’s not looking at her, his eyes wide open and staring into Dean’s.

Dean looks away, back at the road, and _breathes_. He can feel the heat of Sam’s look still shooting through him, and he knows Sam’s still looking at him, eyes nearly black in the darkness of the car, staring like they might be the only two people in existence.

When Dean dares to glance up again, the girl is turned sideways, up on all fours, her head bobbing up and down in Sam’s lap.

He watches as one of Sam’s hands slides under her body, squeezing each breast before it skims her belly, fingers reaching up between her thighs, and Dean can’t see exactly what Sam’s doing, but judging from the way the girl’s fucking back into Sam’s fingers and humming around his cock, Dean can make a pretty good guess.

Dean palms a hand against his dick through his jeans, achingly hard, and then Sam reaches up, fingertips brushing Dean’s face, whispering, _“Taste”_.

“Sam,” his voice is hoarse, almost pleading, and he doesn’t know how to say all the things he needs to say, how to quantify this. Then Sam nudges his finger against Dean’s mouth, and Dean turns his face sideways, one eye on the road as he tilts his head, lets his mouth fall open. Wraps his lips around his brother’s finger with a moan and sucks off the sweet-sour tang of girl, moaning and eager to get to the taste of Sam, beneath. Twists his head and hears Sam gasp, slides his mouth down slow to the base then draws back, sucking hard, tongue swirling around the tip.

He risks a quick glance in the rearview, meets Sam’s molten gaze. “So good,” Sam says, like he’s giving a reward. “So good with your mouth on me, sucking me,” he says, and the girl and Dean both moan in unison.

“Such a pretty mouth,” Sam whispers, and the words aren’t dirty, but the way he says them _is_.

Sam pulls his hand away, and _fuck_. Dean doesn’t even wanna think about all the things he’d do to keep earning that tone of approval from Sam.

The girl makes a thick, strained sound around Sam’s cock, and Dean sees movement in the mirror, pale skin of one hand drifting down below her skirt. He watches her face slide up and down the length of Sam’s dick, pink tongue flicking out to lick under the head and circle around the top.

“That’s it,” Sam whispers. “Touch yourself for me. Yeah, like that.”

The girl has one hand buried between her thighs, the other bracing herself as she sucks Sam’s cock, and Dean has to look away again, because god _damn_.

“I want you to think about how I’m gonna fuck you,” Sam says, voice low, insidious heat. Dean doesn’t even have to look up to know Sam’s staring at _him_ , but he does, anyway. Sam’s voice is a deep, dark rumble, pure silken sex.

“Want you to imagine how I’m gonna fuck you in that hot little ass of yours.”

 _Jesus fucking Christ_. Dean catches his lower lip between his teeth, bites down hard and tastes blood, one hand locked white-knuckled on the steering wheel, cock aching and twitching against his other palm through his pants. The visions Sam’s words are conjuring are some of the most twisted images he’s ever imagined, but that doesn’t seem to make a damned bit of difference to his dick.

The fingers of his other hand are white-knuckled around the bulge in his jeans and the girl is moaning around Sam, working herself up into a fury, and Dean hears the sudden sting of skin as Sam slaps the girl’s bare ass. 

“Don’t you dare come yet,” he orders. 

The girl groans, pulls her hand away from her pussy. With an effort, Dean yanks his hand away from himself, puts it back on the steering wheel and shoves his foot down on the gas, tires squealing around every turn the rest of the way back to the motel.

*

Sam pushes her down on the bed the moment the door closes behind them, and Dean feels that thing twist inside his chest again. Stands back and watches Sam lap at her pussy, fingers twisting her pink nipples into red, aching beads of flesh. He takes her to the edge of orgasm several times, her body so worked up it doesn’t take very long, and then he slicks his fingers with lube, works two of them inside her ass. Her fingers dig deep into the bedspread, head thrown back and mouth gasping, eyes wide and hips twitching, on the verge of going over, when Sam stops. Lifts his head, smirks and lays his thumb alongside her clit, pressing it to the side and holding.

“Tell me what you want.”

“Please,” the girl gasps.

“Please, what?” Sam asks, voice going low and dangerous.

She bites her lower lip, wrestles with the words a moment until Sam licks his tongue out, teasing her clit with the tip for a split second before retreating.

“Want you to fuck me,” she finally blurts, cheeks flushing pink.

Sam slides up her body sinuously, and Dean feels something shudder in his belly as he watches Sam’s face go dark and predatory. “You need to be more specific than that,” Sam whispers and smiles like a shark, and a shiver runs down Dean’s spine. 

“Now,” he says, biting her belly. “Tell me exactly what you want. And you’d better use my name when you do it, because there’s two of us here.”

As Dean watches, Sam scissors his fingers inside the girl, and Dean feels the head of his dick go wet with warmth. He shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be watching like this, he should leave, now if not sooner. But he can’t, won’t, and Sam knows it. Knows Dean’s riveted, as trapped by this thing between them as Sam is.

The girl wriggles, moaning. “Please… want you to fuck me there, Sam. Where your fingers are, please,” she whines, and Sam grins wolfishly, fingers sliding from her body. 

“Good girl,” Sam says, rewarding her with a stroke of his thumb down the center of her, making her shiver and twist her hips.

Sam takes his time stacking the pillows and strips slow, laying back against the pillows at a ninety degree angle. He pulls the girl up onto his lap, slicks his hand and fists his cock, then positions her over it.

“Now,” he whispers. “Just let your body slide down slow.”

His cock disappears inch by slow inch inside the girl, sinking down until she’s flush against his body. Sam puts his hands under her knees and pulls them up until they touch her shoulders, folding her in half, back against his chest. Dean’s so hard it hurts, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything this fucking hot; cock buried deep inside her, legs spread wide, pretty pink cunt empty and offered to the world.

“Need more,” she chokes out, and Sam shushes her, kisses her cheek and bites down against her earlobe.

“Tell us what you need,” he encourages, and his voice is rich, almost indulgent even as it rides the edge of teasing. 

She spreads her legs even wider in invitation, eyes fluttering open and locking on Dean. “Dean, Dean, please fuck me, Dean, oh God, please, oh God,” she moans.

Jesus _fuck_ , how is he supposed to say no to _that_?

He shucks from his clothes and slides on to the bed, his eyes meeting Sam’s over the girl’s shoulder. His brother’s gaze is smoldering, and Dean can feel his skin heat, his heart speed up and leap inside his chest. And fuck the condom, fuck it all, because Sam survived Croatoan and Dean’s gonna die in six months anyway and who can really give a damn about safe sex at this point?

The smell of girl is thick in the air, and he’s got the head of his cock pressed up into her. She’s hot as a fucking furnace, soaking wet, desperate as she wriggles her hips. He angles his hips and pushes up, and holy fucking Christ Mother of GOD, she feels like silk stretched taut all around him, crushing him, and he’s never felt anything so incredibly, crazy tight in all his fucking life, Sam taking up all the space inside her until it’s all Dean can do to keep pushing. Dean’s gasping for air, struggling just to breathe as her body somehow takes him, and through it all, he can feel the thick, hard curve of Sam’s cock push against his through the thin tissue separating them. He slides home, body meeting hers, and reaches down, grabbing hold of her ankles to keep from spinning off the edge of the world.

Caught between them, the girl is moaning, and how she can breathe at all, Dean doesn’t understand. Making sounds like _“Holy fucking shit so full oh my God so fucking good”_ in an endless, mindless litany, her eyes frozen wide open, whole body tense and still as if she’s afraid a single move might destroy the feeling of perfect fullness inside her.

“You like that?” Sam asks, breathing hard into her ear. “Like taking both our cocks at once? Huh?”

And then Sam starts to thrust, bucking against the bed as he fucks into her with long, hard strokes, and Dean moves his hips, fucks back, and oh fuckity fucking fuck, he can almost _feel_ their cocks slide and scrape against each other inside perfect, tight slickness, moaning girl held still, sandwiched between them as they pump and strain. The velvety sac of Sam’s balls grazes against his, their legs touching and bumping as they move back and forth with a give and take rhythm.

The girl is going absolutely fucking _nuts_ between them, like she’s having some kind of a religious experience, making the most delicious whines and cries. Her cunt clamped airtight around Dean’s dick is the most amazing thing he’s ever felt and he tries to focus on her—but all he can think is Sam, Sam, _Sam_. His brother’s cock rubbing against his, separated by a bare millimeter of flesh, and he’s reaching, whispering heated words, hands brushing the girl’s sides, skidding down his brother’s back as he grabs for something to hold onto before settling on her ankles again.

And then Sam’s there, resting his chin in the crook of the girl’s neck as he bites her throat, hazel eyes burning holes straight through Dean. Cheeks flushed, eyes bright and hazy all at once, Sam is practically glowing, and it’s the most girly thing Dean thinks he’s ever thought, but Christ, Sam is fucking _gorgeous_.

“Hold on to _me_ ,” Sam demands, and Dean lets the girl’s ankles go, puts his hands on his brother’s shoulders, and it should feel weirder than this, he knows it should. Those muscles flexing under his hands, slick with sweat, should _not_ send shivers running through every nerve in his body. Less than six months to live and Sam’s pulling him down this slow, slippery slide, and Dean’s finding he can’t really be the one to _stop_ it anymore.

He feels Sam give a twist of his hips and slam inside her hard, again and again, drilling into her until she keens high and loud, her whole body trembling. 

Dean clings to the muscles of his brother’s back, shuddering girlflesh pressed between them, quaking and quivering and oh, God, even tighter, sweeter, shivering around his dick. The world whites out as he feels Sam give another thrust of his hips, his brother’s cock _thisclose_ to his, rushing to fill her and the pressure around Dean’s dick feels fucking _incredible_. He feels Sam lurch one more time, digs his fingers deep into his brother’s shoulders, and then his brain short circuits, exploding.

And the whole time, Sam keeps fucking her, cheek turned into her hair, eyes locked on Dean’s face, watching him, whispering, “Yeah, that’s right, so hot when you come.” 

The girl is a puddle on Sam’s chest by the time it’s all over, still moaning and twitching with aftershocks, melting and sated. 

When Sam gets up from the bed, Dean can see marks across Sam’s upper back from Dean’s fingernails; bright red furrows that rake deep, marring smooth skin. 

And Dean’s hard again, just like that.

He’s not sure how much longer they can play this game.


	3. Your Axis on a Tilt

Sam makes out with her first, hands tangled in her hair and pulling as if he needed the force to bring her to his mouth. But she’s wanting and willing, mouth open and hot, tongue flicking out and giving back just as good as she’s getting, hands clutched in Sam’s shirt, yanking with tiny pulls of fists, like maybe Sam might try to get away if she didn’t. She’s all over him, thigh to thigh, stomach to stomach, breast to chest, and she hardly even has to lean up to meet his fevered kisses, shoved up against him like second skin, like she could never be close enough, devouring him, and Dean might as well not even be there but for the show she’s putting on. Which he has to admit, at least part of him is finding pretty interesting, despite the cold feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He takes another shot, warmth sliding down into his belly. Feels fire snake through his veins, rushing to fill the empty spaces. It’s easier this way, through the haze and heat of alcohol. This way, he can almost pretend.

She’s beautiful. Dream of a girl, poured into painted on blue jeans, black tank top like an oil slick over skin, breasts high and firm, shoulders tanned and sleekly muscled. Muscles flex against skin like ripples over water, dancing and shivering as she pulls Sam closer. Raven dark hair and sloe eyes to match, she’s whiskey and cigarettes and hard candy, sex and conviction, a live wire that twists, sparking against wet pavement. Dangerous, _alive_ ; the pregnant promise of sultry deliverance in her every move.

Sam pulls away, breathes hard against her mouth.

“She tastes like candy,” Sam growls, voice burning the air, and his eyes flutter closed, tongue lashing out to taste her lips. He curls huge hands into her back, spins her around to face Dean.

Her eyes are black holes as Dean stares into her, force of nature, all consuming with hunger and need. When she kisses him, she _does_ taste like candy. Spun sugar and lime, taste of Sam in her mouth like a gift, shock and shiver deeper than bone. He puts his hands all over her, pulls her up by the shoulders into his mouth, scours the taste from her with his tongue. When he’s finally done, she’s trembling, melting in his arms, a night flower caught by the sun.

Sam presses behind her, smoothing his cheek against her face, eyes catching fire in the dim bar light, and fuck, he’s close, so close to Dean. So close Dean can feel his breath like warm summer air, heavy and filled with the stillness before a storm. Stares into his brother’s eyes like a dying man slipping away from hope, clinging to the skin of the world by love and a prayer no Holy God would ever answer.

Sam’s hands slide down her ribs, tracing the subtle curve of bone, and Dean can feel the whisper of his brother’s fingertips like the only thing in existence, grazing against the muscles of his stomach, sending shivers spiraling through him.

Warm, soft breasts pressed against him, burning between her thighs like a furnace. He slides his hand down the front of her pants, body caught between them like a fly in amber, frozen nearly motionless as his fingers find her slick and waiting, slip inside.

She rolls back into Sam, boneless, eyes fluttering and throat exposed, and Dean takes it for the invitation it is, bends his neck and bites down hard, marking her while she gasps, helpless and twitching against his hand.

He crooks his fingers, pushes up and in, finding the sweet spot inside her effortlessly, feels her fill with a rush of wetness, mouth open and trembling with breathless sounds.

“God, he’s fucking you with his fingers, isn’t he?” Sam asks, smirking against her cheek. Bites down against the soft skin there and holds. Dean trails his tongue down her throat, Sam so close Dean can still feel him breathing. 

“You know,” Sam says, words slow and dark like crushed silk. “Anyone could walk in on us back here. Walk right in and see what we’re doing to you.”

The girl actually moans and hitches her hips up into Dean’s hand, and Dean feels as much as sees her head go back. Pulls his mouth from her neck and sees Sam smiling against her cheek, fingers wrapping her hair into a thick, ebony cord and tugging back so far she almost can’t breathe, and Jesus fucking Christ it’s so hot it’s almost criminal, watching her wriggle helpless and wanting, loving every second of it. 

“Would you like that?” he asks her, almost sweet now as his eyes devour her. Dean thrusts up hard with his fingers, watches her face flicker against Sam’s. “I think you would,” Sam says. “I think you’d let us make you come right here while they watched, wouldn’t you?”

The girl moans, and Dean can feel her tensing inside, feel her orgasm coming on fast. He fucks her harder with his hand, palm grinding over her slick clit.

“You’d come right here on Dean’s hand while they watched and you’d love every second of it, wouldn’t you?”

Sam’s reaches up, pinches one nipple hard through her tank top. “Wouldn’t you?”

She gasps something that sounds like “yes”, and Sam grins like a shark, rolls her nipple in his fingers. Slides his face down hers, bites against her throat. Breathes heavy and hot into her ear, tongue teasing the edge. “Knew you would,” he whispers like a reward. Takes a deep breath and yanks against her hair. “You little _slut_.”

And she comes, just like that, clamping down on Dean’s fingers, muscles fluttering all around him. Sound rises from her, muffled, choked back by the angle of her throat, and then Sam’s kissing her, stealing away all her breath and most of Dean’s, too. Her thighs twitch and shudder, the only movement she can make, cunt clutching and shivering with tight, wet heat.

When it’s over, she’s still quaking, unsteady on her feet as Sam draws back a little. He lets go of her hair and smoothes it down like comfort. “Good girl,” he whispers, strokes her tresses while she tries to breathe.

Dean pulls from her, hand covered in glistening slick, the scent of her making him even harder, and Sam reaches out, catches Dean’s wrist. Dean’s heart stutters in his chest for a second, and then Sam’s mouth closes over his fingers and everything like thought evaporates.

Slow pull of Sam’s mouth, tongue smooth and slick and swirling and Jesus _fuck_. Flash of pink tongue, edge of sharp white teeth and this is wrong, so utterly and completely fucking _wrong_ , but Dean’s not sure he wants to be _right_ anymore, because holy fucking shit and Jesus motherfucking Christ, the miracles Sam’s performing with his mouth right now could make Mother Teresa abandon Sainthood.

The look Sam gives him is incendiary as he licks the ends of Dean’s fingers with thorough care, and by the time his brother’s done, Dean’s quivering almost as badly as the girl between them, knees weak and liquid.

And then Sam puts his hands on Dean’s hips, pulls Dean against the girl hard as Sam grinds into her ass, and fuck, Dean doesn’t know what feels better; Sam’s hands digging into his hips so hard it makes him gasp or the crush of girl against his dick.

The fact that this is even a question should bother him a lot more than it does.

“Wanna come back to our room with us?” Sam asks her.

She doesn’t hesitate.

*

She’s got her lips locked around Dean’s cock almost before they’re out of the parking lot, and it’s all he can do to hang on and drive. She’s on all fours across the front seat, ass in the air with Sam’s fingers fucking in and out of her pussy. He’s not exactly sure what his brother’s doing to her, but the sounds she’s making in her throat are so loud that Dean’s dick is vibrating in her mouth. Hot, molten suction, up and down and yeah, she’s not afraid do go deep, take him all the way down her throat to where it’s even tighter, hotter. When she gags against him a little, her throat closes around him like a fluttering vice and he groans, stomach muscles clenching.

Sam puts one hand in her hair, tugs her away. “Not so fast.” She’s breathing heavy, eyes half-closed and mouth wet, staring up at Dean with a look that makes him want to throw the car in park and take her right there on top of Sam.

And then Sam’s pulling her back into his lap, fingers moving between her thighs and stroking, murmuring a stream of heated words into her ear that Dean can’t hear. He glances over, feels his heart stop as he meets Sam’s eyes, his brother staring right at him, _into_ him, through him, all the way down to his heart and soul, and _goddamn_ , the sheer amount of hotness that is Sam right now should be illegal. Or at least _controlled_.

And this is all so totally and completely out of control, him and Sam careening down the side of a cliff, clinging to the thin cover of premise, clutching at the women between them, and Dean wants to care. Or, he _thinks_ he does, anyway, but the closer death looms on the horizon, the smaller the space between them. The less everything else seems to matter.

He bites down on the inside of his jaw and forces his eyes back to the road.

*

Sam strips the girl almost as soon as they’re in the door, hands tugging and pulling at her while he claims her mouth. When she’s naked, she tugs Sam’s clothes from him, turns in his embrace and reaches for Dean, pulling him in tight. Heat of her skin, smell of Sam and girl, and she peels his clothes away while Sam leaves a trail of red bite marks along her shoulder.

When he’s naked, she trails her finger up the underside of his cock, wraps her fingers around him, and he thrusts into her hand, groaning into her mouth. And then Sam’s drawing back, pulling her away with him.

“Get on the bed, Dean,” Sam orders, and Dean hesitates a second, meeting Sam’s eyes.

Mouth deep pink, face hard lined with need, Sam’s tongue flicks out and traces the line of his upper lip and suddenly Dean isn’t sure he remembers how to _breathe_. Eyes dark and ravenous as he eyes Dean up and down, and his tongue flickers out again, almost like he can’t help it.

“Get on the bed,” he says again, and Dean feels his cock twitch, painfully hard. And he should say no, should walk away right now—so many things he _should_ do, and he wonders when he’ll finally stop thinking in terms of what he “should” do, because he knows as good goddamned well as Sam does that he’s not going to do any of them.

He gets on the bed.

Sam’s running his hands over the girl’s body, tweaking her nipples, licking and biting down her throat. “I wanna watch you fuck him,” he says, running his hands up into her hair and lifting his head to stare into her eyes. “You do wanna fuck him, don’t you?” he asks, eyes burning into her. Without waiting for her answer, he cups her face in his hands, almost gentle, turns her face toward Dean.

“I mean just look at him,” Sam goes on, voice black velvet, rich and thick, like honey. Two sets of eyes lock on Dean, dark and hungry. “That face, those lips. And that body… so perfect it makes you want to run your tongue all over it, bite it and mark it, make it yours.”

Sam leans a little closer to her, but his eyes never stray from Dean, and Dean can feel Sam’s eyes as they move over him like Sam was _touching_ him.

“Everybody wants Dean,” Sam confides, and he catches the edge of his lower lip, twists it between his teeth. The sight hits Dean like a physical shock, sending shivers running through him, and his skin tingles, every nerve alive and standing at attention, and he really does think maybe Sam’s trying to kill him, or maybe just make Dean embarrass himself by coming all over his own belly without ever being touched, because _fuck_ and _fuck_ and _fucking FUCK_.

“So you will fuck him, won’t you?” Sam purrs to the girl, corner of his mouth twitching in a dark smile, like he already knows the answer.

“Oh, yeah,” the girl breathes, promise and conviction in her voice.

Sam chuckles, skims his hand up her belly, and gives a push at the small of her back.

She runs her hands up into her hair and walks to the bed, a goddess in olive skin. Climbs onto the bed on all fours and swings a leg over Dean, straddles him with a smirk. Grinds into him slow, dragging her hot slit over him, slicking his cock and making it shine.

Sam sits on the edge of the bed, watching as she rubs her pussy all over Dean, and Dean groans, reaches out and grabs her thighs.

“He told you to _fuck_ me,” Dean says, voice husky and thick, and from the corner of his eye, he sees Sam smile. “Not tease me.”

She takes his cock in her hand, pushes it up into her, and slides it home, taking her time getting there. And oh, fuck yeah, Sammy picked a winner of a girl this time, because she’s _really_ enjoying this, pumping and grinding against him almost lazily, mouth open and moaning as she rides the length of his cock, letting it slip almost all the way out before closing around him again, sinking back down an inch at a time. She’s got her arms braced on either side of him, and it isn’t until she moves her hands to Dean’s chest, hot palms flattening against him, that Sam speaks again.

“No. Not him. Touch yourself.”

She runs her hands all over her body, moaning and pinching dusky nipples, hard pink fingernails leaving trails through the sheen of sweat on her skin. Rides him, tight, slick cunt gripping him while she rocks her hips in a slow, maddening rhythm.

“Does his cock feel good inside you?” Sam asks.

“Yes,” she moans, rotating her hips in a slow circle on Dean’s cock, and _fuck_ that feels amazing.

“Tell him,” Sam commands.

When she hesitates, Sam smacks her ass so hard _Dean_ can feel it, and her cunt clenches around him, tightening with painful sweetness.

“I said _tell him_.”

“Feels good,” she groans, and Sam smacks her again. She whimpers, shuddering, and Sam’s voice grates, low and scary, sending shivers down Dean’s spine.

“If that’s the best you can do, I’m not going to let you fuck him anymore.”

“Oh, God, Dean,” she moans, thrusting against him with a little shiver. “Your cock feels _so_ good.”

“Good girl,” Sam says, and Dean can feel him move, slide up next to Dean’s legs, bare skin brushing against his. “Now…” he says to the girl, voice laced with dark promise. “I’m gonna put my tongue in your hot little ass… and fuck you with it while you fuck him.”

Dean moans in time with the girl, cock twitching inside her with the mere thought of it, and then he _feels_ — Sam’s cheek sliding against his thigh, chin grazing with the light burn of stubble, and it’s almost enough right then to send him stumbling over the edge. The girl rolls her hips back, catches her lower lip between her teeth, bites down, and then she _flexes_ , cunt clamping down around Dean and he shudders, gasps, hips coming up off the bed to buck into her.

“You like that?” Sam purrs, and the girl nods, her whole body trembling, taut as a high tension wire. “Keep moving and I’ll give you more.”

She does, shuddering breath drawn deep, hissing and wriggling as she rocks back—and oh, fucking _Christ_ , Dean feels Sam’s chin brush against his balls, feels the girl shudder and moan, and oh, fuck that means Sam’s mouth is _right there_ \--

The girl rocks forward again, silken heat sliding up the length of his cock, and he can imagine Sam there, hands spreading her apart, tip of his pink tongue buried inside her, fucking in and out of her with slow strokes. She’s practically _cooing_ , moaning and wriggling around on his cock with every thrust like Sam’s tongue is pure bliss inside her, and then Dean’s whole world comes to sudden grinding halt as Sam’s tongue misses the girl, licks a trail down the base of Dean’s cock.

“Christ. Sam,” he groans, voice guttural and completely broken, feels his whole body surge and bites down hard against his lower lip, muscles shivering and clenching.

The girl looks confused for a second, and then she goes stiff, crying out and throwing back her head, and GOD, Sam’s hand is brushing over his balls and he can _feel Sam’s fingers inside the girl_ , pushing through the thin skin, tips rubbing up and down the length of Dean’s cock.

Jesus _fuck_.

“Fuck her, Dean,” Sam croaks, and Dean grabs the girl’s hips, slams up into her so hard that her whole body bounces and she practically screams, cunt squeezing tight around him and oh, fuck, Sam’s still pumping in and out of her and Dean can feel _every single motion_ , and it’s too much, not enough, fucking hotter than anything should have a right to be.

The girl seizes around him, clenching and convulsing, and Dean can’t move anymore, hips frozen and holding her impaled on his cock as Sam keeps flexing his fingers mercilessly and she vibrates and flutters all over Dean, and oh sweet Christing _fuck_ \--

“Yeah, come for me,” Sam urges, voice low and dirty, gritty as gravel, and Dean _does_ , fingers digging into the girl’s hips hard enough to leave bruises, mouth streaming curses, body stuttering wildly.

“Yeah, so hot,” Sam murmurs, and he can feel Sam’s face slide against his thighs, thinks he can feel Sam’s mouth brush against the sensitive skin at the crease of his leg.

When it’s over, the girl is sagging against Dean’s chest, tremulous and shivering with aftershocks. Dean puts a hand on the small of her back and smoothes over the curve of her spine as she comes down. 

Sam crawls up the bed and lays on his side next to Dean, body just edging against Dean’s, the hint and taste of skin on skin. Dean looks up, meets Sam’s eyes and he’s caught, like a fly in a web, a paper cup in a tempest, claimed and devoured by the overwhelming _need_ there, so fucking beautiful in its purity.

“Sam,” his voice catches in his throat, breaking off—a plea, a desperate invitation and warning all at once.

The girl raises her head, shifts over Dean’s body and takes Sam’s cock in her mouth. Sam’s eyes tear from Dean’s, flutter shut, and he turns onto his back beside Dean, burying one hand in the girl’s hair. Dean watches as she sucks him, head twisting as it rises and falls, taking the whole length of him to the base, her tongue curling and swirling around the tip, and Dean would be impressed by what a trooper she is, except, Sam comes then—clenches his fingers in the muscle of Dean’s upper thigh, digging in so hard that he leaves crescent shaped bruises behind in the shape of his fingernails. 

Over the next two days, Dean will press his fingers into those bruises almost constantly while they drive, wanting them not to fade, slight pain bringing the memory of his brother’s hand on him, so intimate, the feel of nails biting into his skin, marking him.

And still, he knows it’s nothing compared to the burn of fingerprints Sam leaves all across his soul.


	4. Event Horizon

They pick up the next girl together.

She’s eager, kissing Dean in the dark corner by the worn dance floor like she’s starving and his mouth might just be the best thing she’s ever tasted. Sam pressed against her back, fingers brushing Dean’s hipbones, thumbs circling the dip at the curve of her waist as he fastens his mouth to the curve of her throat, and she gasps into Dean, heated, halting, tremulous breath as Sam licks and sucks his way up her neck. Dean thrusts deeper with his tongue into her mouth, kisses her harder. He’s got his palms pressed against her shoulders, pulling her up to him, holding her still, and he can feel her heartbeat thunder in her chest, smell the light musk of her perfume as she starts to sweat.

For a moment, Dean has a mental image of a zebra being pulled down between two lions.

And then… she doesn’t slip out of his grasp so much as she turns within it, lets her lips slide from Dean’s, dragging teeth and heat, and catches Sam’s mouth with her own, pink of her tongue sliding between the deeper pink of his brother’s lips. Puts one hand on Sam’s cheek and pushes his face closer to Dean’s, her mouth slotting over Dean’s with the taste of Sam, puts the other palm on Dean’s cheek and presses. He can feel his cheek touch against Sam’s, foreheads canting toward and resting against each other—and the girl, she’s moving her mouth back and forth between them in one, long, slow kiss

And they can’t both fit their mouths against hers at once, but she gives it a good try, and Dean can’t stop thinking about how close Sam is--what could happen if he turns his head just the tiniest bit to the right, nudges against his brother’s mouth with his—

“You two look good together,” she whispers, mouth melting against Dean’s before sealing over Sam’s, and Dean’s losing track of who’s where and who’s kissing who, blood singing sharply in his veins and knees rushing with warmth. Sam’s shoulder, his hipbone, pressing up against Dean, solid and warm and electric, mouths turned toward each other but not quite touching, girl kissing back and forth between them until Dean can’t tell the difference anymore. Feels Sam’s head turn toward him just a tiny bit more, can feel the rush of Sam’s breath as the corner of his brother’s mouth _almost_ grazes his, feels the girl trying to kiss both of them at once, humming her approval. He wonders for a split second if things could get any more wrong than this. Feels Sam’s hot fingers brush his cheek, nails graze his scalp as they slip through the tangle of Dean’s hair and realizes it really, really _can_.

He breathes hard, air catching in his chest with a jagged sound that sounds too much like a sob for his comfort, and suddenly _he_ feels caught between two lions, mouth dry and mind spinning. Sam’s fingers pull against the strands of his hair, twisting, tilting his head back, and he can see Sam’s eyes now, feel Sam’s body turning toward him, feel his brother’s breath dance against his lips, so hot, so close, and the girl’s gone still, watching them, barely even breathing, body pressed up against them both, hand on each of their cheeks.

“Sam.”

He’s said his brother’s name a million different times, a million different ways in all the years since Sam was born, but never like this; never like it was an answered prayer and certain death all at once.

And then he steps backwards, gasps for air. Turns and pushes his way through the line of empty barstools and out the door. The cool night air feels good as it hits his face, cheeks flushed and mouth raw. He puts his back against the Impala and just… _breathes_ , tilts his face up at the night sky.

 _Close_ , he thinks, heart pounding, blood boiling, thoughts racing. _Too close._ And on the heels of that-- _Not close enough._

The girl steps outside, and he lets his head loll down to look at her.

Her hips are lush and full, swaying from side to side with just the kind of switch Dean likes to watch walk away, but _loves_ even more when it's walking towards him. Girl who swings her hips like that only has one thing on her mind. Blue eyes and blond hair, she’s an all American girl with a pouty, full mouth—kind of lips that automatically make Dean imagine them wrapped around his cock, he just can’t help it—and Dean realizes she reminds him just a little bit of Jess as she stares up at him, something like concern glittering just above the dark glaze of lust in her eyes.

“Hey,” she whispers against his mouth, almost soothing, running her hands up into his hair and stroking. 

He seizes her in his arms, winds his hands into her hair and tugs her head backwards, mouth claiming hers with bruising passion. She whimpers into him and her arms twine around him tight, pull him in closer. 

When he finally lets her go, she’s breathless, and Sam’s there, eyes asking a silent question.

“Let’s go back to my place,” the girl says, running her hands down Dean’s chest.

Dean meets his brother’s eyes, takes a breath and nods. He can’t tear his gaze from Sam as he steps back, and when he opens the car door to let the girl climb inside, it feels like making a decision.

*

Everything happens fast once they get to her bedroom. Stripped down, and the girl’s all over Dean, pushing him down on the bed, going down on all fours and wrapping those pretty lips around his cock. Sam’s right behind her, rubbing up against her, one hand sliding around her belly to rub her clit, the other buried in her hair, pushing her mouth down against Dean, hard and fast until Dean has to put his hands on her head, fingers brushing against Sam’s as he slows her pace. Eyes meeting Sam’s over her body, legs trembling and belly tightening, and he’s skating the edge of losing it, when Sam lets go of her, trails his hand down her spine.

“Slow down,” Sam whispers to her, and she does, taking her time now, long, slow slides up and down his cock, tongue tracing a trail up the center, bobbing as she reaches the head and tongues the slit, sucking off the precome and moaning like it’s the sweetest thing she’s ever tasted. Dean relaxes, throws his head back and just tries to breathe, because _fuck_ , that’s good. Mouth locked around him with tight, molten heat, and she’s got a hand buried between her legs, cupped over Sam’s as she fingers herself with thick, wet sounds. She lunges down the length of his cock, taking him deep into her throat, and he’s arching up off the bed into her mouth when he feels her pull her hand from her pussy, slide it up under him. 

Hot, wet hand brushing over his balls, then drifting lower, tracing the crease between his legs to nudge against the hole there. She works in slow, a fingertip playing and circling inside him until he relaxes, her mouth still working him long and slow as she slides it all the way home and he sucks in a desperate breath, digs his hands into her hair just for something to hold onto. When she pushes the second finger in, the world tilts sideways and he’s gone. Slick fingers sliding inside him as she loops and whorls her tongue around the head of his cock, and he’s had women put a fingertip inside him before, maybe even all the way to the second knuckle, but _fuck_ never like this, full length and flexing and _Christ_ it hurts a little, but it feels fucking amazing, too. When he thrusts back against her hand, she stops, pulls her mouth from him and stares at him with burning eyes.

“I wanna fuck you, Dean,” she says, meaning clear as she twists her fingers inside him, and he twists back, gasps for air. “Can I?” she asks, then demurs, turns her head to the side, long blond hair falling in the way of her eyes. “Can I?” she asks again, breathless as she looks to Sam.

Sam meets Dean’s eyes, and Dean is lost in the storm of Sam’s gaze, need wrapped up with wanting, devouring Dean and swallowing him whole.

Dean bites down hard against the inside of his cheek, manages a single, small nod. It’s not like he didn’t know where this was going. Where it’s been going since the first night Sam brought a girl back to the motel for them to share. And they’re not there, not quite yet, but this is the line, Dean feels it, and he feels ready to step across it.

Five months. He shoves back the panicked voice that screams _no no no_ and _baby brother_ , pushes the one that yammers _not enough time_ in with it, then spreads his legs.

The girl’s back on the bed in an instant, up on her knees, harness and rubber cock in hand. It’s absurdly purple, and for a strange moment, Dean wants to laugh. But then Sam moves up behind her, and Dean is completely distracted as Sam presses his bare chest tight against her back, runs his hands down her hips and slides the harness up over her thighs. His fingers trace patterns against her skin, catching up the thin straps of rough leather, and then Sam cinches them tight, making her gasp.

“That’s a little… tight,” she breathes and then moans as Sam pulls the strap even tighter, closing the clasp with a click finality.

“It’s a little—“ she breaks off as Sam grabs her by the hips and shoves inside her with a single, sharp thrust. He slides out just as quick, slips an arm around her waist and bends her over with the weight of his body, leaning hard against her as he lowers her to Dean's waiting body. 

"Don't forget about him," Sam whispers, his lips moving against her ear.

She pushes inside Dean with fake, plastic flesh, and he can _feel_ the sculpted cock as it disappears inch by inch inside him--stretching him so impossibly wide, God, so full—until she’s flush against his body, sweating and covered in a blushing glow. And _Jesus Christ_ , this feeling inside him, the pleasure and pain, so huge he can’t even think around it. He _needs_ , and he thrusts up against her, hips arching for friction, and then her hand clenches around his dick, hot and flexing, thumb brushing over the head.

“Good. That’s so good,” Sam whispers, and Dean feels the sound of approval race in shudders down his spine, feels his cock twitch helplessly against the girl’s hand. 

He looks up, sees the girl with her lower lip caught between her teeth, eyes eating him alive as she stares down at him writhing on the end of her rubber cock. And then Sam licks a trail down her shoulder, sinks his teeth in hard, and she shudders, the motion trembling through her body and into Dean’s. Sam’s eyes are like black holes, destroying Dean from the inside out as they consume him.

“He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?” Sam asks, voice lustrous and thick, caressing Dean with the sound.

The girl nods, turning her face into Sam and mouthing kisses at his cheek.

Sam turns her face back toward Dean. “Tell him.”

“So fucking hot, Dean,” she moans.

“Now…” Sam whispers and trails his tongue down the length of her neck. “Fuck us both, at the same time.”

She does, with twists of shuddering hips, sliding back onto Sam’s cock and fucking forward into Dean with a slow, rotating motion, and Dean can feel the cock nudging inside him, pressing up and in and God, just _there_ , yes. Tight hot hand curling around his dick, body full with the sweet slip slide of hard length inside him. 

“No,” Sam whispers, insidious. “Fuck him like you mean it.”

The girl pauses in mid-stroke and Dean’s eyes flutter open, sees the girl looking at Sam.

“I—“ and that’s as far as she gets before Sam thrusts with his hips, fucking into her hard, and she cries out in time with Dean as he feels the motion shudder through him, waves of searing pleasure spiraling through his whole body.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Dean breathes, eyes wide, fingers clutching at the bed sheets.

“Like that,” Sam purrs. “Did that feel good?” Sam asks, crooning into the girl’s ear. She’s nodding, moaning as she throws her head back against Sam’s chest, but Sam’s eyes are locked on Dean as he lowers the girl, lays her down on top of Dean and presses his body down hard against her back. Pushed deep into the bed by their combined weight, Dean can feel Sam draw his hips back and thrust into the girl again, shoving in and out of her so hard that she doesn’t even have to _move_ to fuck Dean—and _oh God, oh God, oh fucking GOD_ —the slip and slide and wild rhythm of hips and hard plastic cock rocking in and out of him, Sam’s body molded against her, soft body pressing into him, and she’s forgotten her hand around his cock, but it doesn’t fucking matter, because her belly’s sliding against him as Sam fucks her into Dean, and—

“So greedy,” Sam chastises her and stills. “You forgot about him, again.” 

And Dean doesn’t care how greedy she is as long as they just keep _fucking_ him, wants to beg Sam to keep moving—and then he feels Sam’s hand slide between them, brush against his aching cock, and he nearly comes then and there. Sam’s got his fingers around the girl’s, flexing and running up and down the length of Dean’s dick as Sam starts slamming into her again, and Dean vibrates with the motion, throwing back his head and gasping. 

He reaches out blindly, needing something to hold onto, hands skating down the girl’s sides, and then Sam thrusts in and _up_ and Dean can feel the cock inside him nudge against something that feels _incredible_ . He isn’t sure the sound he makes is anything human as he digs his hands into Sam’s back, cants his hips up and rocks up into them, the three of them moving in time as his hands slip and slide down the muscles of his brother’s back, urging Sam faster, harder.

“God, yes, fuck _yes_ ,” he groans.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Sam whispers, and then the girl freezes, pink mouth going wide as she shudders, coming apart between them. Dean feels his brother’s hand slip off the girl’s, rougher fingertips sliding over the head of his cock, slicking it with precome just as Sam drives into them hard, pleasure spiking inside and outside Dean’s body, and he comes in a blinding rush, shuddering against the cock still pumping in and out of him mercilessly.

The girl wilts against his chest, shivering and breathing hard, and Sam’s still on top of her, not moving anymore, gone perfectly still as he stares straight down into Dean’s eyes, their faces only inches apart. Sam’s so close, Dean can feel him breathing, almost taste him on the air, and everything he sees in his brother’s eyes is everything he’s ever known. 

Dean doesn’t flinch, doesn’t close his eyes. Just stares right back and lets the rest of the world spin away, lets the silence speak for them both.


	5. Singularity

Sam’s got his hand splayed across the small of the girl’s back, huge palm nearly encompassing the width of her when he catches Dean’s eye. There’s a glittering there that makes Dean’s insides go a little weak, makes his dick twitch.

Sam looks back to the girl, smiling that bright, toothy smile that makes all the girls go loose in the knees, and Dean looks her up and down. She’s beautiful, of course, long dark hair and petite body with a rack that that just doesn’t quit and the kind of ass he’d like to take his time running his hands over, lick and bite until she was writhing under him. Sam knows how to pick them, and really, his brother’s type isn’t so different from his except that Sam likes smart girls and Dean tries to stay away from those kinds of girls, always afraid that they can see right through him.

Sam’s running his hand down lower, palming the upper curve of her ass, and she’s pushing up against Sam, smiling as she leans in closer to that charming smile. Sam leans in, whispers something in her ear, and she turns her head, blue, blue eyes staring into Dean as she smiles, wide and bright in invitation, meaning unmistakable in the cant of her head, the arch of her back.

And Dean—

Dean leans back against the bar, rests his elbows on it, and takes another pull from his beer. Lets his eyes run out over the crowd, not really seeing them at all, focused on the speeding rhythm of his heartbeat, the suddenly cold feeling in the pit of his stomach.

It’s been two days since the last girl, pace picking up, becoming faster, more furious, more filled with urgency and need. And Dean’s pretty good at denial, he thinks, twirling the beer bottle between his fingers, but even he can only pretend so long. He’s not like Sam. Sam can hold out forever, bone deep stubbornness he inherited from their Dad that Dean’s never known the mercy of. Dean just ends up like a car wreck, twisted inside out, upside down, wheels spinning uselessly in the air until it all explodes.

So he runs. That’s what he does—what he’s always done. He runs and hopes he runs fast enough that he can get away mostly intact. 

There’s only one thing in his life he’s never run from. Never even _wanted_ to run from. And standing here against the bar, time slipping away like sands through glass, his brother extending him another twisted invitation to this farce, Dean thinks maybe he’s tired of running, anyway. Tired of even pretending to run.

“Dean?” Sam’s sliding up next to him, girl still on his arm, eyes almost unreadable save for something like concern.

Dean drains the rest of the beer, turns and sets it on the counter with a thud that rings in his ears like finality.

“Let’s head back,” he says, and his voice somehow stays steady as he looks up, meets his brother’s eyes, letting them carry the rest.

The barest flicker of surprise across Sam’s face, an almost imperceptible widening of his brother’s eyes as the words sink home—and then a look so powerfully hungry and sharp that Dean can actually feel his hands start to shake, fire licking at the inside of his belly.

Sam takes his hands off the girl, says something to her that’s beyond Dean’s ability to comprehend right now, and then Sam puts his palm on the small of Dean’s back, guides him out of the bar.

*

Dean’s hands are still shaking as he drives back to the motel, mind spinning in useless circles, and they don’t talk, but Dean can _feel_ Sam in the heavy silence. An electric crackling in the air, a pull between them like a slow drag into a black hole, all consuming and inescapable. And Dean thinks maybe it’s always been there—no, _knows_ it’s always been there. He’s just always been able to ignore it before.

Dean manages to shove the key into the motel room door after three tries, turns the lock and steps inside like stepping over the edge into an abyss. 

Sam wraps his arms around Dean, pulls Dean in tight against him, and Dean can feel him, body sinuous and solid, hard muscles and harder cock, pressing into Dean with insistence. Dean takes a shaky breath, raises his hand and places his palm on his brother’s cheek, stares up into Sam’s eyes. Sam skims Dean’s face with the back of his knuckles, stares back, something indefinable in his eyes, and Dean feels his stomach flutter, do a tiny flip inside him.

This is it.

Sam brushes fingertips across Dean’s cheek, hot as fire and shooting sparks through Dean, and then Sam steps back, releases him. “Take off your clothes, Dean.”

He breathes deep, strips, and for as many times as they’ve been naked in the same room together, it’s never been like _this_ \--never _felt_ like this. The air heavy with static charge, still and somehow almost ominous, like the calm before a storm. He’s acutely aware of his brother’s every move, the sound of clothes as they peel away from his brother’s body, the sound of his breath, and the feel of his eyes as they travel over Dean’s skin.

“Get on the bed,” Sam says, hand grazing Dean’s back, and Dean swallows hard, climbs onto the bed, muscles trembling, blood thundering furiously in his veins. He turns, starts to lay on his back, but then Sam’s coming at him across the bed on his knees, runs a hand behind Dean’s head and wraps one arm around Dean’s shoulders, pulling him up on his knees, faces close, so incredibly close together.

Sam’s fingers flex, twisting in Dean’s hair, tugging his head back until his chin angles up. His brother towers over him, even on their knees, pulls his body taut like a guitar string, and Sam’s eyes burn like the pits of Hell itself, terrifying and promising damnation Dean just can’t bring himself to care about.

Sam’s tongue flickers out, brushes against Dean’s mouth like the flutter of butterfly wings, sends Dean reeling, hurricane winds roaring through his mind and drowning out every single other thing in the world. 

“Isn’t this what you always wanted, Dean?” he asks, and Dean can feel the syllables painted against his mouth. 

Arched in his brother’s arms, heart pounding, cock hard, skin flushed and hot, he wants this so much that it’s like a living thing inside him, clawing at his insides, thrashing panic in his stomach. Wants it so much and sick with wanting it so much for so long, and if he’d never traded his life for Sam’s, they wouldn’t even be here now, standing on the edge of this cliff. They could have let it go, let it fade, ignored it like they always have. 

Here, on the cusp of everything, there are so many things he could be worried about—things he probably SHOULD worry about—but he just doesn’t care anymore.

It isn’t that he’s worried that what he brought back might not be 100% Sam. 

It’s that he’s 100% sure that it IS. 

_Sam’s_ eyes, staring at him with liquid heat, filled with lust. _Sam’s_ hands on him, clenching in his hair, pulling him in like gravity. It’s terrifying and familiar all at once, heartbeat, blood and fear, tangled in so many emotions he can’t even begin to name them. It’s like dying. It’s like coming home.

_Isn’t this what you always wanted, Dean?_

Yes. 

And he’d ask God to help him, but he already bought a one way ticket to Hell. What’s one more sin? 

“Yes, Sam, God,” he whispers hot into his brother’s mouth, slides his tongue past those soft, full lips and claims his sin. Deepest, sweetest, hottest kiss of his life, and fuck it, if this is what sin tastes like, he’ll wear it like a mark of Cain, paint a scarlet letter on his forehead, suck Sam off on live tv while the whole world watches as long as it means he can keep having _this_. Puts one hand on the back of Sam’s neck and pulls him closer, tasting the ridges in the roof of his brother’s mouth, tracing the shape of his teeth, wrapping around his brother’s tongue and tangling there, slow slick slide.

“God, Dean,” Sam breathes, tongue smooth across the swell Dean’s lower lip, hot drag of teeth behind, catching and biting. “Wanted you so long.” 

Huge hands fisted in his hair, and Sam’s kissing him like he wants to climb inside Dean’s skin. Dean kisses him back like he’s drowning and Sam is air, and for all Dean knows, he is. Sleek hard muscles and slick of sweat beneath the rough palms of Dean’s hands, and it’s too much and not enough, it’s everything and nothing, and God, _this_ , all this time it’s only been _this_ and he can’t believe he never knew until now. 

“Fuck, Sam. Need you now.” 

Sam catches Dean’s lower lip between his teeth, licks and lets it free.

“Wanted to take my time with you, Dean,” he breathes, voice rough and gritty. “But I don’t think I _can_.” He runs his hands down Deans back, arches his fingers against the base of Dean’s spine, fingertips flexing. “I can’t wait to fuck you, Dean,” he says, and Dean shivers, pushing back into Sam’s hands and then rocking his hips forward, thrusting. Feels his cock catch and drag against his brother’s, dry skin and sweet friction.

Sam stops, drifts back from Dean’s body and captures Dean’s face between his hands, staring down into him with eyes that burn like brands, leaving marks all across him. “You _are_ gonna let me fuck you, aren’t you Dean?” he asks, voice thick and rich, buttery like velvet.

“God, yes, Sam. Please.” His voice is so ragged he hardly recognizes it, and Sam’s all over him, everywhere, inside and out and he can’t even THINK anymore, just _needs_ , one huge, knotted ball of need and he _needs_ Sam to untangle him, quantify him, smooth him out and make him _real_.

He drives his mouth up into Sam’s, hands catching around his brother’s hips and drags him close, grinds hot, hard skin against skin. Sam fists a hand in his hair, tugs his head back, and he opens his mouth wider, lets his brother in, take everything, bitter taste of regret, black and fecund fear of dying, ashes and sacrifice and a lifetime of love and there’s nothing else but this—never has been anything else but this.

Sam puts a hand on his chest, pushes him down to the bed, still kissing him, hands running the length of Dean’s body, devouring lines and curves like a starving man. Bites his way down Dean’s throat, leaves a trail of fire in his wake, tongues at the thin skin of the scar on Dean’s shoulder where Sam shot him years ago, and Dean moans, arches into Sam’s hands, shudders against his mouth.

“God, Dean, you want it, don’t you? _Need it_. Love it when you need me like this.”

Dean doesn’t answer—knows he doesn’t need to answer as Sam bites and licks his way down Dean’s chest, tongue tracing the ridges of his stomach muscles. Dean slides his hands into the wild tangle of Sam’s hair, lets his fingers mold to the curve of Sam’s neck, the heat and the beat of blood against thin skin, splays his fingers and glides them out to Sam’s shoulders and thinks how he knows every inch, every page of this book. Runs his fingers along its edges, tastes its texture for the first time again.

Sam bites down hard against the skin of Dean’s stomach, teeth sharp and tugging in response, and Dean hisses, shivers. 

“Wanna mark you, make you mine,” Sam whispers, and Dean can _feel_ the words against his skin, the need in Sam’s voice suffusing him, bleeding into his heart and sending blood rushing to his cock. 

“Always have been yours,” Dean whispers back, digs his fingertips into the muscles of Sam’s shoulders, pushes Sam down against his belly, body rising to his brother’s mouth, open, wanting and waiting.

Sam sinks his teeth deep, sharp, stinging pain that makes Dean writhe, breath hissing inward through his lips. Feels his brother suck blood to the skin, painful and bright hot hard, over sensitized nerves singing with pleasure and pain. Sam’s fingers digging deep into the hollows of his hips and bruising, and Dean shoves his whole body upward, taking it all, wanting it all, drinks it all in and holds it close, the feeling of his brother’s fingertips pressing pain like sweetness into his body.

Sam drags his mouth lower, biting and suckling, and when his tongue flicks out, licks away the precome slicking Dean’s cock, Dean cries out, begging with mindless sounds. Sam answers, and when his mouth wraps around Dean’s dick, wet hot slick perfection, it’s a _gift_ , like heaven, and if God Himself came down out of the sky and smote them both right now in the name of all that’s Holy, Dean would still die a happy man, Sam’s name shuddering through his lips like the most fervent prayer ever uttered.

Sam sucks and pulls at his cock, tongue everywhere, licking and ravenous as he moves, maddening rhythm that rips away every other thought Dean’s ever had except “yes” and “fuck” and “oh _fuck_ yes”, until he’s trembling, body straining on the verge, stuttering against Sam’s mouth—and Sam pulls away, mouth releasing with a wet, popping sound.

“Not yet,” Sam says, and it’s a promise and a taunt all at once. Dean clutches at him desperately, whimpering and bucking helplessly against the air, fingers digging hard into his brother, wanting, _needing_ \--and Sam just rises up on his knees, body hard and perfect beneath glowing skin as he smiles that wicked smile at Dean. Grabs Dean by the hips and rolls him over on the bed before Dean can do more than make a noise of surprise.

“You promised you’d let me fuck you, Dean. And I _really_ want to fuck you.” Sam’s voice is like sin as he slides down between Dean’s legs and pushes them apart, and when Dean feels his brother’s tongue press against the tight hole of his ass, he gives up all pretense of protest, shoves his hips back into Sam like a wanton whore.

“You like that, Dean?” Sam asks, his voice arch, and his tongue traces the crease, presses in where Dean is tightest.

“Fuck, Sammy. Fuck yes,” he gasps, feeling on the edge of breaking. “Please. Need you so bad.”

“I think I’d like to hear you beg me to fuck you, Dean,” Sam says, and his voice is a black grin that makes Dean twist and writhe.

“But not tonight,” Sam grates out, hands sliding over the curve of Dean’s ass, fingers gripping tight. “Tonight, I just can’t wait that long,” he says, and then plunges his tongue inside Dean, opening Dean and filling him with hot, sweet, slippery softness. Dean digs his fingers into the sheets and cries out, whole body vibrating as he thrusts back into the sublime perfection of Sam’s tongue in his ass, and _God_ if he’d _ever_ known how good this was before, he’d have been doing it all his life.

Sam’s fingers clench, burn like white-hot fire against Dean’s body, and he fucks into Dean with quick, short bursts of his tongue until Dean keens, melting and shivering and completely fucking wrecked, desperate and calling Sam’s name over and over again like a mantra. And Sam just slows the pace, circles his tongue, tip licking up deep inside and pressing against muscle, soft and twisting inside him like pure bliss, and Jesus _fuck_ , Dean’s going to lose his fucking _mind_ , contorting against Sam’s mouth and gibbering, sound breaking from him like a sob—

“Fucking _Christ_ Sam, please—“

And then the world spins around as Sam turns him back over, presses his chest against Dean’s and leans in with all his weight, sweat slicked and fucking _gorgeous_ as he stares down into Dean with eyes like burning coals. Pushes his hips up between Dean’s and Dean can _feel_ him, hot, hard, spit-slicked tip of his brother’s cock pressing against him like the sweetest promise ever made. Lashes thick and dark as he bends his head, closes his eyes and kisses Dean’s mouth, soft, so much softer than Dean ever imagined Sam could be, and it almost breaks him in two, the need, the love buried beneath that press of warm lips.

“It was always you,” Sam says, eyes blown wide, so open and deep that Dean can hardly stand it. A deep breath, the shuddering of Sam’s chest against his, pounding out a wild, frantic heartbeat.

“It’s always been you,” he whispers, and then pushes up into Dean, slow and straining, burning and sweet.

And God, _yes_ , Dean thinks, breathes aloud, body surging up to meet Sam’s, opening to him and taking him in deep. Sam’s bigger than the girl’s rubber cock was, and it’s not perfect—actually it feels a little bit like skidding down a half mile of raw concrete on his ass as much as it feels amazing—but it’s Sam and it really doesn’t matter if it hurts, because he’s been hurting with his little brother all his life and this is nothing compared to the ache in his heart all these years carved in the name “Sam”. And maybe, just maybe, with _this_ , with nothing left between them but what’s always been there, that ache might ease a little.

They’ll learn how to do this, how to move together in bed like they do on a hunt, in perfect time, natural rhythm. And Dean knows they don’t have much time left, can’t believe how much time they’ve _wasted_ , but Dean completely and totally intends to make up for that, with every ounce of life left in him. And judging by the way Sam’s moving against him, hand cupping Dean’s jaw as he twists his hips, Dean’s thinking Sam’s probably not opposed to that idea. 

“Feel so fucking good, Dean. Tight, hot, little hole, taking my cock.”

Dean breathes out, gasps his brother’s name as long, strong fingers wrap around Dean’s cock, stroking hard and sure as he fucks harder into Dean, nudging just _there_ against that fucking magnificent spot. Dean’s been rock-aching hard for what feels like forever, wanting this, and Sam’s hand on him is all it takes to spin him out over the edge.

“Yeah, Dean. Do it. So fucking hot when you come for me. Wanna see it.”

The tight circle of Sam’s fingers drags across the head of Dean’s cock with searing heat, and then he’s pumping into his brother’s fist, body rising up off the bed to meet Sam’s rocking hips. And there in that moment, Dean forgets about deals and death and time. _This_ is how the world ends; the same way it began, the same way it was always meant to be—with Sam and Sam and SAM.

“Fuck, Sam. Oh, God, Sammy,” he bites out, fingers twisting in his brother’s hair, thumb catching the corner of Sam’s mouth, body twitching and shaking as he comes, blistering hot and glistening slick all over his brother’s hand. The world goes white, then gray for a moment, and then the taste of copper in his mouth as he bites through the skin of his lower lip, sings out Sam’s name in staccato bursts of gasping breath. 

“Yeah, Dean, just like that,” Sam whispers, leans in to kiss Dean’s mouth, tongue swirling the blood away. “Can’t even keep it together when you come like that, Jesus—“ Sam’s hips stutter and then shove deep inside of Dean, and Dean can _feel_ it when Sam comes, stiffening rock hard and spasming, but the real beauty of it all is right there on Sam’s face as he gasps and closes his eyes, throws back his head and works his jaw against the air, whole body shuddering, raw and perfect and just _Sam_. Fingertips pressing bruises into Dean’s collarbone as his head snaps down, forehead pushing against Dean’s, eyes bright with savage light, shivering inside Dean as he rides out the last of his tremors.

Sam slides down against him, pressed chest to chest, belly to belly, bites at the pulse point in Dean’s throat and then runs his cheek along Dean’s neck, weight settling down comfortably, head resting over the crook of Dean’s shoulder. He can feel Sam’s breath, panting warm against his neck, feels chills spread over his skin with the sensation. 

Sam tugs Dean under him tighter, one hand cupped against Dean’s cheek, possessive and sprawling. And Dean can’t think of anyone else he’d ever let touch him like this.

Can’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be.


	6. Red Shift (Prologue to series, Part I)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first half of the prologue to the series.

The first time it happens, he says no. Utterly, totally and completely definitively no.

He walks in on Sam half-dressed with a naked girl in his arms.

“I’ll just go back outside. In the car, and—“

“No, you should stay,” the girl says, giving him a long and slow once over with her eyes. She looks up at Sam and gives him a pouty smile. “Can he stay?”

“You wanna stay, Dean?” Sam asks, the words rolling out, deep and rumbling, and fuck, is Sam _teasing_ him?

“No, Sam.”

Hands trembling, heart pounding, and he doesn’t even know why he’s so fucking **upset** by the idea. It’s just sex. And it’s just Sam—

Oh, but it’s never been _just_ Sam.

And brother. Hello, baby brother, and fuck, he’s got to get out of the motel room _right fucking now_.

“Come on, Dean,” Sam cajoles, something sinister and promising in his voice. 

“You’re out of your fucking mind, Sam. NO.”

Sam looks Dean up and down like he’d like to lick Dean inside out and take his time about it, pink tongue curling at the edge of his mouth.

“You could just watch.”

Dean opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. 

He spends the night in the Impala, tossing and turning in the backseat before he finally pulls out his cock and jerks it slow, trying and failing miserably not to imagine what his brother’s doing inside the room.

*

The second time it happens, it’s a slinky brunette girl with legs up to her neck and an ass that makes Dean want to get down on his knees and thank God—among other things. The only thing she’s got left on is her shirt, and she’s kissing Sam for all she’s worth, the two of them standing entwined by the bed. 

When Sam pulls from the girl and looks at Dean, his mouth deep pink from kissing and shiny-slick with spit, Dean feels his stomach tighten, his mouth going suddenly desert dry. 

“Stay, Dean,” Sam says, and this time Dean knows he’s not going to be able to walk out. 

He swallows hard, settles into the chair by the dresser, feeling like an intruder, heart beating fast. 

“Is he gonna play with me, too?” the girl asks with a coy giggle, shoots a glance at Dean.

Sam smirks, fingers catching in the straps of her shirt and sliding it down over her shoulders in a pool of metallic blue. The tops of her breasts rise, full and round above the edge of the material, and Sam runs his fingers over the curves, tracing light patterns. 

“No. He’s just going to watch.” He pauses, looks into the girl’s eyes and smiles, a dark, playful smile that Dean’s never seen before. “Tell me what you like.”

The girl grins, rubs her body up against Sam. “What do _you_ like?”

Sam breaks out in a full grin—100% Sam charm, unfiltered, bright and blinding like sunlight. It’s charming, mesmerizing, and a hell of a lot scarier than Dean ever remembers it being.

“I like a lot of things,” Sam says, running his fingertips up along the line of the girl’s neck, eyes never leaving hers. “But you. I’ve got a feeling about you.”

“Yeah?” she asks, a little breathless, straining into his touch.

Sam fists one hand in the girl’s hair, tugs her head back and she whimpers, rising up into the pull, eyes wide and lips parted. 

“You like it rough, don’t you?” Sam asks, knowing chuckle trapped in the deep timbre of his voice, and the girl nods, arching against him and looking more turned on than Dean’s seen her look so far. The playfulness in her disappears as she goes rigid, then limp, obedient under Sam’s grip, and Dean is fascinated, riveted, cock hard and pressing against his belly.

“Will you spank me?” she asks, voice almost pleading.

 _Oh fuck_. Yeah. This gonna be one hell of a show.

“Oh, I know just how to deal with girls like you,” he says, voice laced with promise that makes Dean shudder. Sam steps back, lets her go.

“Get on the bed,” he orders. She starts to move, to lay down on her back, but Sam shakes his head. “On your belly,” he instructs, and she doesn’t hesitate, presses her face down into the pillows.

Sam slides a pillow under her belly, pushing her ass up in the air, angled toward him as he settles between her thighs, and Dean’s instantly, aching hard.

“Spread your legs,” Sam says, smacking the inside of her thigh. “Show us that pretty pink cunt.” The girl whimpers, bites down against her lower lip and then does, pink girlflesh, satiny and soaking. 

“Good girl,” Sam soothes, running a hand over the curve of her ass. 

“God, you’re so wet already, aren’t you?” Sam asks, and Dean watches two fingers slide all the way inside the girl’s glistening cunt, sees her arch her back and stiffen, pushing back against Sam’s hand. Sam smacks her ass cheek with one open, stinging palm, and Dean sees blood rise to the surface of her creamy skin, shape of Sam’s hand, perfect and welling red. 

“Hold still,” he orders, pressing her hips down with his hand. He pushes in with his long fingers again, pointing straight down, and the girl hisses, struggling to stay still even as she gasps.

“There’s the sweet spot,” Sam whispers and presses down again, watching with a smile as the girl’s hips rise up off the bed involuntarily, whimper escaping her. He smacks her ass again for the hell of it as he presses in and out of her, and the girl makes a noise, cracked and broken sound, fingers digging deep into the bed sheets.

“Oh, I haven’t even started with you, yet,” Sam promises, and dips his head. Dean feels his cock go even brutally harder inside his pants as Sam’s tongue flicks out, tastes the tight, tiny hole above her pussy. Traces licking circles over it, taking his time as the girl moans and writhes, twisting her hands down into the bedding, face buried in the mattress until he lets the tip press just inside her and the she cries out, low, upper body rising off the bed as she pushes back into Sam with her hips.

Sam stops instantly and slaps her on the ass again.

“I _said_ stay still,” Sam hisses, voice low with warning. Dean watches the girl press her lips together, struggle for control as Sam rubs his free hand over her ass, teasing the sore skin.

“Do I need to tie you up?” he asks, and something about the way he says it is so dangerous Dean feels a thrill of fear rush through him.

She lays back down again, ass nearly the same rosy shade of pink as her cunt.

“That’s good,” Sam says, light reward for her Herculean efforts. Dips his tongue into her ass, her moan overlaying the soft sound that escapes Dean as he watches. “But now you have to beg if you want more.”

“Please?” she breathes, immediate, desperate.

“You’re gonna have to beg prettier than that.” Sam’s voice curls against the air like dark smoke.

“Please fuck me with your fingers and your tongue, Sam, please?” the girl begs, and Dean can see her shiver with the effort not to wriggle as she speaks.

Sam slides his fingers back inside her pussy, tongue diving deep into her tight hole, and _Christ_ she’s taking it all, moaning in little breaths, eyes squinched shut, biting into her lower lip so hard Dean thinks she’s gonna draw blood—but she doesn’t _move_. When Sam switches from tongue to the fingers of his other hand she makes a strangled cry, and Dean can see Sam’s fingers scissor inside both holes, can imagine him trying to touch them together through the thin tissue.

“And that’s the other sweet spot,” he says with a chuckle, working his fingers deeper.

Pretty girl, just barely holding it together, strings pulled taut and threadbare, muscles standing out like cords beneath the fine sheen of sweat covering her body. Full pink lips part, sounds spilling out in a rush of nonsense, and Dean watches her quiver, freeze in place—and then Sam pulls his fingers from her body, lays his hands flat, palm down on each cheek of her ass. Instantly, she’s in motion again, whining, nearly sobbing as she claws at the sheets, bucks her hips to get some friction, and Sam just rises up, presses his weight down to hold her still. She does cry a little bit, then, single tear trickling down her cheek as she struggles to breathe regularly again.

Sam lowers his face, brushes his cheek over flesh mottled bright pink from spanking, smiles when she twitches under him. “I told you, you don’t get to come until I’ve got my cock in your hot, tight, little ass,” Sam whispers, smirk curving his mouth as he nuzzles the abraded skin. 

“Please fuck me, Sam, God please, fuck me, oh _please_ ,” she begs, words rushing from her in a single, shaky breath.

Sam sinks his teeth into her then licks the mark away, chuckling as she shudders and moans. “Good girl,” he whispers. “God, just _begging_ me for it, like a little slut.” And Dean thinks maybe she’s gonna implode right there, Sam’s voice pushing her over the edge.

And then Sam rises up on his knees, spits on his palm and slicks his cock, pushing the head against where she’s tightest. Dean watches, palming his dick through his pants, breathing hard and sweating as Sam pushes through the tight ring of muscle, cock disappearing a single, slow inch at a time inside her as she twitches and wriggles against him, begging like she’s gonna die if he doesn’t get all the way inside her right _fucking now_.

When his body rests against her, cock buried deep, Sam puts his hand on the small of the girl’s back and leans down, licks up the ridges of her spine and nips at her shoulder. Sitting upright again, Sam twists his hips, lunges with a wicked thrust, and Dean can _see_ the girl’s knees buckle from here. 

“Does that feel good?” Sam asks. He reaches up with his other hand to grab her by the hair at the back of her head, twists it back until her throat’s bared. “You like taking my cock in your ass?” He punctuates the question with another sharp stab of hips, slaps his palm against the skin of her ass, and the girl cries out, writhes on the end of Sam’s cock, her eyes wide, fingers twitching uselessly against the mattress. She wheezes a moaning little sound like “yes” and Jesus _fuck_ , Dean can’t take anymore. Slides down his zipper and takes his swollen cock in hand. Glides his fingers through the precome and slicks it, fingers working up and down the length.

“Please Sam. Can I come now?” the girl gasps, voice thick with strain.

“I think Dean’s getting lonely,” Sam says, trace of mischief in his tone. The girl moans, whimpers something Dean can’t quite make out, and Sam actually laughs.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Let Dean fuck your pussy and make you come. No. I think I’d rather watch you suck his cock while I fuck your ass. Would you like that?” Sam asks, rolling his hips into the girl, and Dean can see his brother’s cock slide in and out of her, base almost to the tip. “Getting fucked from both ends? Fucked back and forth on our cocks?”

“Christ, Sam,” Dean can’t stop the words from slipping out. Feels his cock leak, heavy and hot against his hand, sees the girl quake as Sam shoves deep inside her, hard. Then his brother lets go of her hair, strokes it once.

“Wouldn’t you?” Sam asks, relentless, and the girl moans out a breathy yes, her whole body quavering. 

“Yeah. I bet you’d like that,” he says, and Dean can hear the smirk in his voice. He grabs her hips, slams into her. “Dean fucking your mouth while I drill you in the ass. Rocking you back and forth between us so hard you wouldn’t even have to move, sliding in and out of you.”

The girl starts to keen as Sam fucks into her mercilessly, his fingers dug deep into the tender, reddened flesh of her ass, and Dean groans, hand convulsing around his cock, feels his stomach muscles tighten. He can imagine her soft mouth wrapped around him, hot throat, swallowing him greedily, fucking into her as Sam fucks back, hand smacking hard against her ass—

“Please, Sam, oh please oh please oh God PLEASE,” she’s begging, practically screaming.

“Should I make her come, Dean?”

“Fuck’s sake, Sam,” Dean rasps, hand strumming over his cock.

Sam smiles and finally, finally, takes mercy on her. Slides his hand down under and brushes his fingers across her clit, and that’s all it takes. She’s off like a rocket, empty cunt clenching as she thrashes back against Sam’s cock, deep throated, raspy scream like she’s dying, shivering and shaking as Sam pounds into her, his fingers working furiously against her clit—and Sam turns his head, looks right at Dean. Dean meets the heat in Sam’s eyes, feels his gut clench then explode, hot slick covering his fist as he rocks up into his hand, shuddering and straining and spilling all over himself.

By the time Dean’s twitching, riding out the aftershocks, the girl is collapsed against the bed, ass still in the air. Through half-lidded eyes, he sees Sam still staring at him, eyes hungry as he pulls out of the girl, wraps his hand around his dick and jerks, covering her backside in pearly droplets of come, white teeth biting down hard into his lower lip.

Dean feels his cock twitch against his palm, squeezes it tight. And _goddamn_ that was a lot fucking hotter than it should have been. Staring at his brother, all sleek muscle and sinew beneath golden skin, he feels his belly go weak and light, feels the pull of something deep and dark that tastes like secrets and years.


	7. Bodies in Motion (Prologue to series, Part II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second half of the prologue to the series.

“Come on, Dean. All I wanna do is watch,” Sam says. Pauses and catches his lower lip between his teeth, lets it unfurl slow as he meets his brother’s eyes. “You know. Like you did, last time.”

“No,” Dean says, and there’s something frantic in his voice, but there’s something deeper and darker layered underneath; something like heat and the quiver of anticipation. He waits, lets Dean take a shivering breath and a drink from his beer.

Sam picks the hottest girl in the bar; five-foot-ten and stacked top and bottom, white-gold hair and vivid blue eyes, just this side of wild judging by her skin tight pants and her leopard print barely-there top. High heeled shoes would have kicked her over the edge into trashy—which Dean’s not entirely opposed to—but her feet are firmly ensconced in a pair of black leather boots with sensible low heels, and that’s what makes it clear to Sam, more than anything, that this is the kind of girl who’s just grounded enough to make her a challenge.

Sam loves a challenge.

The attitude’s there in her body language, too, the _bring it on_ slant of her shoulders and toss of her hair. The self-assured way she leans down over the pool table and lines up her shot, pretty face serious, cue stick just rubbing the underside of her chin. She’s not the kind of girl who wants to be taken lightly. But she’s not the kind of girl who’s out of reach.

There aren’t many that are, Sam thinks, when it comes to the two of them.

He puts some cash on the table, works his way into the next game. Predictably, she wins, her opponent too distracted by staring down her shirt or checking out her ass every time she bends over.

He plays coy at first, keeps the conversation light. Buys her a drink and blushes just a little when she questions the gesture. He’s not nearly as shy as he used to be, but he remembers well enough. And even when he was, he was the kind of guy who took art classes just to fill his arsenal for picking up smart chicks. And she _is_ one, no doubt about it. 

He watches the way she sways her hips when she leans down to shoot, the way she purses her lips just before she strikes the cue ball, and thinks she’s also the type who’ll just love what he’s got in mind. 

She plays hard to get, but he breaks through her defenses, recognizes she’s the type who just loves to perform, show off what she’s got despite the fact that she’d rather be appreciated for her mind. So he plays to that, too, talks about college, and studying law, and pretty soon they’re not playing pool anymore. She’s sitting next to him, listening intently and nodding as she sips her drink.

When Dean finally drifts over, pulled in by Sam’s enigmatic glances, she lights up, eyes brightening.

“Wanna play?” she asks, fingers tightening around her cue.

“Sure,” Dean says, smooth as silk when he smiles.

Sam can’t help but quirk a grin.

Sam watches as they shoot, the body language of the girl, his brother’s body as Dean leans over the table and takes his shots. Dean does well, just well enough to lag behind the girl and let her get the upper hand, and Sam smiles. He knew Dean couldn’t resist. He watches as they build a slow language between bodies and words that eventually aligns, Sam encouraging in all right the spots.

When Dean finally backs her against the wall and kisses her, Sam moves up next to her, doesn’t quite touch her as he leans in and breathes close to her ear.

She pulls her mouth from Dean’s, blue eyes glazed and radiating heat, and Sam moves in, murmurs against her lips.

“We both like you.”

“Oh no,” she whispers back, feigning concern as she brushes her mouth over Sam’s. “Whatever shall we do?”

He flashes a smile, runs his tongue over his bottom lip. 

"We were wondering if maybe you'd like to play a different game with us."

*

It’s almost endearing, the way she blushes when Dean tugs her clothes from her, silky leopard print pooling on the floor next to her black satin underwear. Dean, on the other hand, makes no show of modesty as he peels away his shirt and jeans, and Sam agrees; his brother’s naked body is nothing to be ashamed of. Musculature sculpted in golden skin, the play of light over the hard lines of him as he backs her to the bed, teasing words and slow kisses against her mouth.

Dean gets her up on the bed, both of them on their knees as they embrace, giving Sam a perfect view from his seat next to the dresser. Sam eases back in the motel chair, lets his legs sprawl, long and wide apart. His arms hang over the edges, head lolling back against the wall as he watches, appraising through half-lidded eyes.

The lamplight plays over his brother’s body, limning every line and curve, catching on the angle of that sharp jaw as he moves, drinking the taste of the girl in tiny licks and bites. Sam’s seen his brother naked before, but never like this. Never in motion like this, all grace and skill, fingers that flow, twist, touch and know like they do under the hood of the Impala. Muscles gather, coiling and rolling beneath golden skin sprinkled with freckles, smooth canvas punctuated by pale scars, and Sam knows every single one, names them as Dean fits his hands over every curve of the girl’s body, each movement filled with a deadly certainty that sends shivers down Sam’s spine. 

Dean kisses her like he's got all the time in the world, tongue sliding between her parted lips and circling deep, flickering along the shape of her mouth before plunging in again. He presses a hand to the back of her head, fingers twisting in her hair, twining it into thick strands, pulls her in hard against him. He runs his other hand over her body, pausing here and there, rolling a nipple between his fingers, parting the pink flesh between her legs, fingers dipping inside just deep enough to make her hips stutter before sliding up over her clit, circling slowly before pressing in. The girl moans breathily into Dean's mouth, answers with another shuddering thrust of her hips. Puts her hands on either side of his face, twists her head and opens her mouth to take him in just a little bit deeper. 

The girl murmurs something, the sound lost in Dean’s mouth.

“What’d you say?” Sam asks.

The girl moans into Dean again.

"What did you say?" he pitches the words to cut through the air, just the slightest lash to them, and the girl's body thrums, trembles in response.

She twists her upper body around to look at Sam, breasts high and heaving as she breathes. "He's so fucking gorgeous," she moans, all throat and need.

"Lay down, Dean,” he says. He meets the girl’s eyes and their gazes lock as Dean releases her, lays back. “Show me how hot you think he is… how much you wanna fuck him,” Sam challenges. “Show me with your mouth and hands.”

She’s even hotter naked and turned on, all lush curves and huge doe eyes, clear blue and glittering in the low light of the room. Hair, long and parted on the side, spills like a waterfall down her back, pure corn silk that grows darker, the color of honey between her parted thighs. She arches on top of Dean on all fours, pale, clawing cat, pink nails and tongue over Dean's skin, tasting and teasing every inch like it might be her last. Dean's hands on her hips, thick fingers making deep indentations as he guides her down again, grinds her against him, and she moans through that pretty, coral-colored mouth. When she lifts her hips again, Dean's cock is glistening wet with her slick. 

"I wanna watch you suck his cock," Sam says, hand winding lazily down his stomach. Fingertips graze the bare skin where his shirt rides up, close, so close to where his cock is aching hard, curving up onto his belly. “And if you do a good job, he might lick your pretty little cunt when you’re done. Would you like that?" Sam asks.

"Yes," she moans. She nips at the ridges of Dean's belly, ripples and shudders coursing through Dean's body. His brother's head thrown back, lower lip caught between his teeth like it's all that's holding him to the world, still watching, staring down at the girl through pleasure-slitted eyes. Her tongue flickers out like a serpent's to taste the crease of Dean's thigh, gathers the salt of sweat there, and then she turns her cheek slow, nuzzles against his cock with her cheek. She licks across the heavy span of Dean's balls, pale slick of her tongue trailing slow, and Dean shivers, buries fingers in the length of her hair. 

"Fuck," Dean whispers, throaty rasp that sends fire coursing through Sam's veins.

Drags her mouth up the length of Dean and teases a little more, tonguing the slit before swallowing him whole. Dean rises up off the bed to meet her, filling the tightness of her throat with a hiss of pleasure, his eyes fluttering shut as her soft mouth locks around the base of his cock. 

“Jesus,” Dean breathes, straining up into her. 

She bobs her head with strong, sure strokes, twists the angle of her mouth on the way down, sweeps her tongue across the underside on her way up, cheeks hollowing out as she sucks hard. Dean’s skin is sheathed in sweat and his cock glistens with the shine of spit, his breaths quick and shallow, and the girl ratchets up her pace until Dean’s muscles tremble and shake, fluttering beneath the skin as he fights for control.

“Stop,” Sam whispers, and the girl does, smiling like a Cheshire cat as she wipes her mouth, looks at Sam with glimmering, mischievous eyes.

“Your turn,” he smiles back. “Lay down and spread your legs for him.”

She lies down with her head toward Sam, hair pooling and flowing off the end of the bed. Dean’s up on his knees, parting her thighs—and God, that expression. Lazy smile like a predator as he lies down, bends both her legs and pushes them up and apart. He runs his hands along her silky thighs, breathes out across the thatch of hair between, and Sam watches the girl’s body shudder in a series of rippling waves as Dean touches the tip of his tongue to her, parts and holds her wide open with one hand, licking slow up the satiny spread of her. He plays over her with light-tipped touches and long drags with the flat of his tongue, teasing until she twitches, bucks and begs.

Dean takes mercy on her, sucks the bud of her clit between his lips, pushes two fingers of his other hand inside her. 

“God, so fucking wet,” he moans and twists his wrist, making the girl stutter and start to shake apart. “Yeah, got that spot, don’t I?” he asks, voice rich and thick, eyes coveting her, relishing. The girl’s body pulls in a sudden arc off the bed, breasts shuddering as she cries out, and Sam can see her stomach muscles fluttering, clenching around Dean’s fingers as she comes. And Dean just smiles that pleased, lazy smile, eyes riveted on her face as he dips his head in and suckles hard on her clit, thick fingers buried and working in her ripe, pink cunt.

“Jesus,” Sam whispers, palming his erection through his jeans. Dean’s eyes flicker up at the sound, meet Sam’s; deep, dark, green-black, filled with pleasure and satisfaction, his mouth still full of mewling girl. Their eyes stay locked as Dean shakes his head back and forth and growls like an animal with a piece of meat, sucking more of the girl’s body inside his mouth. She comes again with a short, sharp shriek like a bursting balloon, hands tearing at the bedspread. 

Dean finally relents, licking slow again with his tongue as she winds down, muscles unspooling into the mattress. Turns his face and presses a kiss to the inside of each of her thighs, then pulls his hand free and cleans his fingers, licking and sucking and making sounds that are absolutely filthy and _obscene_. Sam’s dick twitches, spilling hot pre-come in a stripe across his belly, and he grunts, yanks his hand away from himself like he’d touched fire.

“Wanna watch you fuck her,” Sam rasps.

Dean moves to the side of the bed, kneels and slowly spins her around to face him. He spreads her legs wide and folds them up, hands running down her calves, the outsides of her thighs. He digs in under her hips and lifts her lower body off the bed, leans over and positions his cock, pulls her up on him at the same time he thrusts, eliciting a gasp from the girl.

Dean shoves her back into the bed, holds her there, pinned by his hands as he thrusts again. Sam watches Dean’s cock disappear and reappear, hard curve of flesh, silken and slick with girl, roadmap of veins flushed and full, every inch red with blood and heat.

Sam slides his hand down, unzips his jeans and pulls out his cock, fisting it with languor as he watches.

Dean fucks her hard and fast, steady rhythm like a galloping horse. Curls in on his stomach and thrusts up with his hips as he drives into her, and he _must_ hit the sweet spot inside her again, because she throws back her head and lets out a high pitched wail. Dean keeps right on her, not letting up at all, piston snap of his hips as he moves in and out of her. Their bodies are covered in a thin sheen of sweat, shiny and slick where they rub together, pink flush creeping up the girl’s cheeks and staining her chest.

“Harder,” Sam urges, squeezes his hand around his own dick and takes his own advice.

Dean slams his hips home and Sam can see the girl’s body jolt with the force of it—once, twice, three times—and then Dean lets go of one her legs, licks the heel of his hand and grinds it down against the soft slick of her clit, pressing into her belly with his fingertips. Sam _sees_ Dean’s fingers flex, pushing down against the head of his own cock through her body as he strikes the sensitive spot inside her, and the girl fairly screams, thrashing under Dean. 

Slow grin across his brother’s face, wolfish and appreciative, and the girl gasps for air as she arches and shudders and quivers. 

“Yeah, like that,” Dean whispers. He pushes down with his hand again, strokes into her quick and leaves her a quivering mass against the coverlet as his own hips stutter.

“God, feel so fucking good,” he gasps, fingers clenching against her stomach, and then he throws his head back, grabs the tops of her thighs and slides home again, slow in and out as his face contorts with pleasure. Dean’s eyes bright and wide open for an instant before he squeezes them shut, teeth biting into his lower lip, slow breath hissing through the space as his belly clutches, convulsing.

Sam circles his fingers around the head of his cock, lets his fingers blur with the motion, and Dean’s look would be enough, the very _sight_ of Dean coming would be enough to push Sam over—but then Dean meets Sam’s eyes for a brief instant, tongue flicking out over his lips, eyes liquid heat.

“Fuck, Dean.” Sam comes, spurting over his fist, spilling pearly and thick all over his belly, his fingers.

Dean’s eyes flicker down, take in the mess all over Sam’s stomach, and he groans, leaning down over the girl, thrusting into her one last time as he rides out the end.

He collapses against the girl’s chest, rubbing his face against hers, but his eyes are fixed on Sam, and Sam strokes himself once more, brings his fist to his mouth and licks away the slickness there.

And _fuck_ the look in Dean’s eyes, makes his heart freeze, makes his cock twitch one last time.

Sam sucks bitter salt from the skin between his thumb and forefinger, staring Dean down until his brother has to look away.

Yeah. It’s just a matter of time.


	8. Crossing the Rubicon (Series Epilogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not about the girls. But girls can still be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue to the series.

They pick you, out of a crowd of glittering dozens. Eyeing your cleavage in your tight little tank top, palms fitting against the curve of your ass through your skin tight jeans. They don’t dance, but they might as well, the way their bodies move against you like serpents, hips rolling, hands tugging, mouths seeking, slowly backing you to the darkened corner of the bar, one in front, one behind. 

_Come with us_ , says the dark-haired tall one, and his eyes are mesmerizing, like a cobra’s as he stares you down. Dean (Dean’s name you know for sure, many times as the tall guy has whispered it between kissing you and Dean both) is behind you, cock hard and pressing against your ass, hands on your hips as he grinds into you hard, kisses trails like fire down the side of your throat, spills naughty words that make you blush, make you thrill and feel like you’re gonna come right there in your pants without either one of them ever touching your pussy. Sam—that’s his name—has his hands on your breasts, kneading your nipples through the thin silk, cock pressing against the ache between your thighs, and your mouth feels swollen from their bruising kisses, breath quick and harsh in your throat. 

_Make you feel good_ Dean whispers, hot lick along the curve of your ear, shuddering thrust of hips as he shoves you forward into Sam, your cunt throbbing as it presses against Sam’s dick. 

_Gonna fuck you, both of us_ , Sam promises. He’s got his fingers wound in your hair, holding you still as Dean bites at your neck, as he licks his own trail up the pulse that flutters in your throat. You’re soaking wet, panties sodden and sliding against you inside your jeans, and you nod once, breathe yes until you’re not even sure you’re saying words anymore. Anything, anything, if only they just won’t stop. 

* 

_Brothers_ , Sam tells you, like you’ll care, and all you do is arch your back, kiss him harder. Sam holds you on his lap the whole car ride there, one hand shoved down your pants and fingering you, the other arm wrapped around your waist like iron. Dean watches you both between glances at the road, eyes glinting hard and hungry. 

Everything’s a blur once you get into the room, hands and mouths everywhere, all over you until they tear your clothes away and push you down on the bed. Sam tongues a line right up the middle of your slit, makes you shiver, then turns to Dean and tells him to taste. You watch as they kiss, sharing the taste of you, and then Dean’s mouth falls on you hungrily. They take turns, long slow turns, licking your clit like it was a lollipop and trading off tastes. Dean holds you open, spread wide and vulnerable to Sam’s tongue, and then Sam’s fingers grip against your slick pussy, so hard it almost hurts, and Dean takes his turn. Back and forth until you’re crawling against the sheets, sweating and begging and more wet than you’ve ever been in your life, and then Sam lifts his head from you as Dean dips his back down, flicks across your clit and makes you hiss. 

“Which one of us do you think should fuck her first, Dean?” Sam asks, smile like a predator, and your whole body thrills at the sound, at the idea. At the way he’s talking about you like you’re not even here. 

Dean lifts his eyes, chin glistening and eyes ravenous as they rake you up and down. “We don’t have to take turns,” he says, and you shudder. 

“You can take us both at once, can’t you?” Sam asks, gliding up your body with his—and God he’s tall, so big, he could cover you and trap you underneath him and you wouldn’t be able to move. And for some reason, the idea excites you. 

He kisses you hard, not caring that your lips are already bruised from their rough kisses before, and you can taste yourself on his lips. “You ever been fucked in the ass before?’ he asks, breath like a hiss across your mouth. 

“No,” you answer, belly coiling with heat and fear at the thought. 

“Oh,” Sam says, grinning like a wolf. He licks a line down your jaw and Dean’s trailing his tongue down lower, past your dripping cunt to the tiny hole beneath. “You will tonight,” he promises, bites down against the tender meat of your throat and sucks blood to the skin. 

And then, quick as a flash, Sam flips his body around, slick of precome sliding against your lips, head of his dripping cock leaking all over you. “Wanna fuck your mouth. Open up,” he orders, and you do, mouth falling obediently open. 

He’s absolutely huge, sliding slow inside your mouth, then your throat until you can barely breathe, weight of him pressing you down. Dean’s licking and tonguing away at your ass, one finger rubbing lazily over your clit while he works, and God, it’s good, so fucking good. Sam’s hips pick up speed when Dean pushes a finger inside your ass-- slow burn, sweet pain—and you whimper, trying to thrust back against the light touch over your clit, the aching fullness inside you. Dean takes his time though, and you’d be begging by now if your mouth weren’t full of Sam’s dick. He pushes a second finger inside your ass and you moan around Sam’s cock. 

“You like that?” Sam asks with savage thrust of his hips. “Like his fingers in your ass?” 

They both fuck you, fingers and cock until you’re rocking back and forth between their thrusts, moaning and needing, and finally Sam takes mercy. 

“Switch with me, Dean.” 

Dean pulls his finger out of you, leaving you empty and wanting, and you whimper, but Sam’s there, strong hands stroking your shoulders as he slides underneath you. “Shh. Sit up.” 

He holds you by your hips, positions you over his huge cock. Dean’s got his hands under your arms to hold you up, and slowly, they both lower you, slick tip of Sam pushing inside your ass. There’s a sharp burst of pain as he thrusts fast, and you stiffen, crying out. Sam holds you there, impaled on his cock, just letting you get used to the huge feel of it inside you, moving slowly until the throb of pain turns to sweetness. 

“That’s it, good girl,” he says, running his hands over your breasts. He lays down and pulls you back on top of him, holds your hips and pushes in and out of you from behind and it feels good, but not good enough, your cunt empty and clenching, needing. 

“Dean,” Sam whispers, and then Dean’s there, his dick skimming over your lips as you open for him. 

Dean’s sinks his cock deep in your throat, fills you, silken flesh, hard as a brick, pulsing as he pumps slow, in and out of you while Sam fucks you in the ass. It’s good, so fucking good, and then Dean slides his fingers inside your cunt—three of them all at once, God, so full--twists up and hits that spot right before he locks his hot mouth over your clit. He sucks it hard between his lips, teeth just scraping, and oh _Jesus_ , oh _fuck_ every hole stuffed full of them. So full. Slick sweat, trapped between their bodies, sliding skin and gushing wetness between your thighs. Rocked back and forth and fucked between them and _God_ , two more seconds and-- 

“Yeah, Dean,” Sam groans from underneath you, his fingers skimming under his brother’s stomach and pinching both your nipples. “Make her come.” 

Dean does something with his tongue, quick flick and twist of his wrist, and Jesus, that’s _four_ fingers—you hear a sound like howling, and it takes a second before you realize it’s you, thrashing between them as the world grays out and goes sideways, supernova of an orgasm tearing through you in shuddering waves. Neither one of them stops fucking you, though, Dean still sucking you as he pumps, until you’re screaming and moaning and shaking, cunt contracting again and again with aftershocks. 

“Yeah, good girl,” Sam whispers, twists your nipples one more time. You whimper around Dean’s cock and Sam bites into the back of your neck, wraps his arms around your chest and holds you still. “Such a good girl,” he whispers, voice like sin, dark and sinister, and it sends shudders rippling through you. “Good little slut, taking both our cocks. Gonna take it all, aren’t you? Swallow his come, let me come in your virgin ass.” 

Sam thrusts into you, hot sweet burn, and then he hisses, body stuttering as he pulses, and you feel him go rock hard, flexing inside you as he fills your ass with hot, wet slick. “Fuck,” he grunts, biting down so hard against your shoulder that tomorrow you’ll have a ring of teeth shaped bruises. 

Dean pulls his hand from you, tears his mouth away with one last, hard suckle. And then his hands grip your hips, digging into the hollows and bruising as he pushes you down, holding you against his brother with all his weight, fucking your mouth with hard, furious strokes, burying himself to the base, body shivering, groaning, and Sam’s moaning under both of you, his cock held motionless inside your ass by his brother’s weight. 

Dean twists his hips and you feel your throat flutter shut, closing in protest—and then he stiffens, spurts hot and hard deep inside, coating your tongue. You whimper around it, try desperately to swallow it all, but you can’t move. Feel his come spill from the sides of your mouth, trickling down hot and thick down your jaw. But you want to be good for them, so you try to swallow it all, throat convulsing, and Dean makes a whimpering sound, thrusts deep one last time. 

“Jesus _fuck_ ,” he whispers as he falls back on his knees, cock dragging from your mouth and leaving a sticky trail behind. You can breathe right again, all of you motionless and panting for a moment. And then Sam rolls you over, lays you down against the floor, slides his cock from you, one slow inch at a time. And fuck he’s big, even when he’s not all the way hard. You’ve barely caught your breath when he flips you over again, rolling you over to meet those huge, dark hungry eyes. 

“You spilled some,” he whispers. “Naughty girl,” he whispers, and the palm of his hand smacks your pussy with a sweet, sharp jolt, makes you twist into the carpet. He lays down alongside you, half his upper body covering you, shadows dancing in his eyes. He leans down to lick the sticky trails on your jaw, long slow slide up to your mouth, and you feel cooling come trickle in. 

“Gotta take it all,” he whispers, and you lick your lips, swallow the taste. Sam feeds you Dean’s come with slow licks of his tongue, gets one arm under one of your thighs and bends it, fingers stroking slow over your twitching clit. And oh, _fuck_. Dean’s pushing your other thigh up, bending it in half and opening you wide. He presses his mouth against the rim of your asshole, licks deep inside, and _Christ_ he’s _sucking out_ Sam’s come, vibrating with tiny moans into you as his tongue curls and stretches inside your ass. 

You come again, just like that, quick as a snap—Sam’s fingers dancing lightly over your clit, Dean’s tongue sunk deep inside, sucking and pulling come out of you, taste of Dean’s come still thick on your tongue as Sam watches you with knowing eyes. “God, so fucking turned on, aren’t you? Greedy for it.” He shoves two long fingers inside your pussy, pushes up with them and strokes over your clit with his thumb while you’re still coming, makes it surge sharp and hard, and if it weren’t for Sam’s body holding you down, you’d be sitting up right now with the force of it. But they hold you there, make you take every bit of it until you’re almost crying it feels so fucking good and fuck, they have to _stop_ because it feels so good it almost _hurts_. 

When they’re finally done with you, Sam’s still stroking fingers along your clit, and Dean’s licking you, getting the last traces of Sam’s come. 

“We got ourselves a trooper, Dean,” Sam says, voice rumbling deep with promise. “I bet you could go all night, couldn’t you? Let us fuck your pussy, your mouth, your ass, over and over again, take turns until it hurts. You’d love every single thing we could do to you, wouldn’t you? Beg us for more, too, I bet.” He chuckles, pinches your sensitive clit and _fuck_ , it’s _too much_ \-- 

“Shh,” Sam whispers, dips his head to your throat and sucks blood to the skin, bright and hard, harsh scrape of teeth behind. “We’ve got all night, baby. Don’t worry.” 

They keep you there on the edge of coming again for what feels like hours—Sam’s fingers stroking lazy circles over your clit, Dean fucking your pussy with his tongue, never quite enough pressure to actually get you there, and you strain, buck against the carpet. 

“See? She needs it, Dean. Needs it so bad.” Sam turns his head, and you feel Dean leave your cunt, force your eyes open to watch as they kiss over you, sharing the taste of you between them. Tongues tangling, and God they’re fucking hot, making out like they’re drowning and kissing’s all that’ll save them, hard, fast, bites and licks, tongue trailing over mouths and jaws before diving back again and sinking deep. 

“So fucking hot,” you whisper. 

“Yeah?” Sam asks, turning his head, and God, his eyes are so hot you feel like they could burn holes right through you. And if his eyes are hot, Dean’s are searing, bright green and burning deep into your soul. 

“If you’re a very good girl,” Sam goes on, dragging the words out slow. “I’ll let you sit on his face and watch while I fuck him.” 

“Please?" you gasp, hips twitching, clit throbbing, and Jesus, just _imagining_ them fucking sends a fresh gush of wetness down your thighs. 

“Gonna get him ready for me? Tongue his ass and finger it open for me?” Sam asks with a wicked grin. 

“Yes.” 

“Knew you would,” Sam says, smoothes your hair back from your face with one palm, leans down and licks your lower lip. 

He sits up, then, looks Dean up and down with a lingering glance. “Lay down and spread your legs, Dean.” Dean holds Sam’s eyes the whole time as he sits up and then lays back against the carpet. Draws his knees up to his chest and spreads open wide. Cock half-hard and shiny wet, curling up over his belly, pink between where he opens to the world, tiny, tight bud, and you get up on your knees, sink down on all fours between his legs and rest your hands on his ankles. 

“Lick around the outside first, like he did to you,” Sam whispers, going up on his knees behind you. You run your tongue in little circles around the dark pink rim, feel Dean hiss and twitch underneath you. Just the tip at first, then with the whole end, until you’re licking gentle, wide circles that leave him slick and trembling. 

“Good,” Sam says, running his palm down the small of your back, up your spine. “That’s so good. Now, push your tongue inside him, nice and slow.” You feel Sam’s fingers teasing around the soreness of your own hole, feel him slip just the tip inside. “Like that.” 

You follow Sam’s instructions until you’re wriggling on the end of his finger, tongue curling and twisting inside Dean, thrusting your hips into Sam’s hand—and then he grabs you by your hips, thrusts his cock inside your cunt with one smooth stroke and holds you there. You gasp and shudder into Dean’s body, and Sam tells you not to stop, don’t you dare stop, so you don’t, keep fucking Dean with your tongue until Sam tells you to use your fingers instead. He uses his own fingers to make you feel _how_ to touch Dean, and you do as he says, whimpering and moaning because he won’t move, won’t do any more than finger your ass, his cock rock hard and unmoving inside your drenched cunt. 

“Now, suck his cock.” 

You take Dean’s dick in your mouth, feel it harden slowly as you suck up and down it, fingers working inside him. 

“Fucking Christ,” Dean hisses. 

Sam curls his fingertips, tells you _just like that_ and you do, and Dean bucks his hips off the carpet, nearly choking you. 

“Good girl,” Sam whispers, rewards you with a quick shove of his hips. You rock back, groan around Dean’s cock and keep your fingers curled, stroking inside Dean’s body, but Sam doesn’t give you any more than that. Just holds you still against him. “Keep going,” he says, voice pitched low, almost like a threat. “If you’re a good girl I’ll let you come again.” 

You suck and twist your wrist for all you’re worth, and Dean’s shivering all around you, body trembling, fingers twitching into the carpet. His eyes-are half closed, glazed with need, voice broken as he begs, “Please, Sam.” 

“Please what?” Sam asks, sound of his smile curling in his voice. 

“Fuck me, God, Sam, please fuck me now.” 

“Love when you beg,” Sam breathes, pulling from your body, and you whimper a little with the loss of his cock, so full and hard inside you. 

“Put your knees on his shoulders, pin him,” Sam commands, and you do, face Sam and watch as he slicks his cock with spit until it’s glistening, puts his hands on Dean’s bent legs and then presses slow inside Dean, disappearing bit by bit. You can feel every inch Dean takes through the movements of his body-- shudders and gasps, twitching under you--but Sam grabs Dean’s hips and holds them in place while you sit on his shoulders, and Dean can’t move. 

“Suck her pussy, Dean. She did such a good job getting your hot little ass ready for my cock. Tongued and fingered you like a good little slut.” Sam leans forward, thrusts up with his hips and sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, teasing with his teeth. He bites down hard, leaves you gasping, and grins up at you. “Told you you’d get your reward.” 

Dean’s tongue flashes out over your clit, and you buck into the touch, then grind your hips down hard, covering his face in wetness as he tongue fucks you, slow and easy in and out. 

You ride Dean’s face, watching Sam’s dick thrust in and out of Dean’s body. His cock is rock hard, red with flushed blood, veins standing out like roadmaps, glistening slick and shoving hard, making Dean shake underneath you. You take Dean’s nipples between your fingers and pinch them, feel him rise up and gasp into you, mouth locking around your clit and sucking hard. 

Sam’s eyes are locked where your cunt joins his brother’s mouth, watching hungrily as he pumps, something reverent and almost affectionate in his eyes now. “God, Dean, so fucking hot,” he gasps. Sam takes Dean’s cock in his hand and strokes it hard, base to tip in a solid grip, one hand still pinning his brother’s hips. “Come for me, Dean,” Sam demands, and his tone brooks no argument. Dean’s teeth graze you and then he’s thrashing his head between your thighs, clit still between his lips as he paints his belly with thick stripes of come, muffled grunts and moans into your body as he strains to move, veins standing out like cords in his arms, fingers clenching and unclenching into fists. 

“Feel so fucking good,” Sam groans, and then you both come like a thunderclap, hips jittering and stuttering, Dean riding out the last waves of his orgasm underneath you both. 

Sam’s still sliding in and out of Dean when you come to, lower lip caught between his teeth, and you slide off Dean, fall weak and trembling to the side. Dean goes boneless as a rag doll into the carpet and Sam runs his hands up his brother’s belly, smoothing pearly come into his brother’s skin. 

“Jesus, Dean,” he pants, and then you feel like maybe you’re not there for a second as Sam sprawls out on top of Dean, captures his brother’s face between those huge hands and kisses him, long, slow and deep. 

And yeah, maybe you don’t feel like you’re there for a moment, but watching them, your body all fucked out, slick and sore everywhere, you don’t seem to mind a bit.


	9. Blackbody Curve (Series Coda)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coda to the series.

When the Hellhounds come for Dean, Sam raises a single hand and flays them limb from limb.

Lilith doesn’t fare much better. 

The room glows white, so bright that Dean can still see it, even when he closes his eyes. When he opens them again, he sees Ruby’s former body flung into the far corner like a broken doll, sleek golden hair bled crimson, limbs twisted at awkward, impossible angles, spine snapped, bent in half in the wrong direction.

“Sam?” The word is a faint whisper.

“I’m here,” Sam says, turning and putting a palm on Dean’s face. “I’m still me.”

“Lilith?”

“She won’t be back. Ever,” Sam promises, face dark and foreboding.

Dean shivers. “I… God. _Sam_.”

The air between them is heavy with silence, and Dean can feel his brother’s eyes on him, feels their tug like whirlpools of darkness. Sam’s thumb catches across Dean’s cheek, grazing, rubbing.

“You always knew this was inside me, Dean.” Sam’s looking at him like he’s expecting Dean to make some sort of decision. Like Dean ever had a choice in any of this.

Dean nods, swallows hard and leans in, kissing Sam’s mouth. “I know.”

Sam meets him, tongue hot, hungry and hard, and his brother turns him, spinning Dean’s back to the wall, fingers quick and clever as he undoes Dean’s pants and tugs them off. Sam fucks him right there against the wall, hands gripping Dean’s waist, legs wrapped around Sam’s hips. Sam’s eyes stare into him, bruising Dean’s heart with the force of everything between them.

Dean’s _alive_ ; sweating, writhing on the end of his brother’s cock, head tilted back against the wall, Sam’s tongue plundering his mouth, sucking his lower lip. He still tastes like Sam, lips warm, fingers tightening against Dean’s face and pulling him in. He still feels like Sam, smells like Sam, still moans and fucks like Sam.

Dean knows he should care more about what just happened here, about how much Sam has changed... except, he knows the truth.

Sam hasn’t changed; this is who he always was underneath.

He’s one-hundred percent Sam, and Dean’s one-hundred percent his.

 

FINIS


End file.
